lost in the moment
by Poisoned Scarlet
Summary: Teacher AU for Resbang! "You must be the teacher Gil has a crush on. Kid has some good taste." Second grade teacher Maka Albarn reunites with her high school headache and realizes that perhaps they had just been misreading each other all along. The second grade has never been quite so eventful.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Soul Eater.

**lost in the moment  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlett_

He was always so well-dressed, well-mannered, and courteous; a dream come true. Prince Charming, if he were real. The slate-gray suit was custom tailored, bringing attention to his strong frame, his long legs. She swore she could see him coming from the mere shine of his cufflinks, the black polish of his shoes. His silver hair was always combed back neatly, cropped short, and he always wore a friendly smile when he approached her—or anyone, really, he was absolutely charming to all he met.

"_Good afternoon, Miss Albarn!" _He would always greet her with a mega-watt smile that made a few of the other teachers swoon. _"How was Gil today? He didn't give you too much trouble, did he?" _He was always so formal, so polite, sometimes Maka had trouble speaking to him simply because joking around seemed inappropriate with someone who exuded such an air of aristocracy. Maka Albarn, second grade teacher at Death City Elementary, almost couldn't believe that Wes Evans married none other than Blair Lanterne, the easiest woman on the block a few years back.

Maka first met her during freshman year in high school. At the time, Blair was twenty one and living it up. The woman often dropped by to drape herself over whom Maka scathingly recalled as jerk-face Soul Eater, who'd always flush a terrible scarlet and bark the most obscene names at the woman for causing a scene again. Generally, Maka crept past them without being noticed, but sometimes she caught the older woman's eyes trailing after her as she continued on her way home.

She never knew why.

She kind of didn't want to, either. Blair was the type of woman Maka disdained, and still did.

"Miss Albarn! Miss Albarn!" Gilbert Evans cut through her reverie, jumping up from his seat. He rushed to her, shoving a worksheet in her face. His eyes were bright blue, his hair a dark gray compared to his father's silver. "I'm done! I'm _first!_"

"Very good, Gil!" Maka laughed warmly, taking the paper from his hand. "Did you finish your other worksheet, too?"

"Uh huh! Lemme' get it!" Gil enthusiastically replied, dashing over to his desk to retrieve it. Gilbert Evans was the most adorable little thing she'd ever come across and Maka had taught quite a lot of students in her four years as an elementary school teacher. However, Gil happened to be her favorite student of all: he was a very quick learner, lively if not easily-excited, and always gave it his all in his studies. Although he had a problem with being _too_ social most times, she was sure that he would grow out of it as most kids did by the time they reached middle school.

"Here!" He handed her the paper, beaming up at her. Maka smiled back and took out her infamous red marker. She checked off a few problems and his smile faltered, but she was quick to ruffle his hair and tell him he should focus a little more on quality rather than trying to beat the clock.

"Why don't you finish this one at home?" Maka suggested, glancing at the time. "It's almost time to go! Alright, everyone!" Maka stood up, watching her students look at her with sudden glee. She wearily noticed not even half of them finished the second worksheet. At least Gil had tried. "If you didn't finish your worksheets, I want you to take them home as homework and return them to me by _tomorrow_, okay? I mean it, you _have_ to finish them!" Maka sternly said, eying each and every one of her students sternly.

"Don't worry, Miss Albarn, I swear I'll do it! I'll get Uncle to help me on it! Just watch!" Gilbert promised her. Maka nodded patiently at him and watched him skip back to his friends, shoving his homework in his folder with the reckless abandon of a child.

"Alright, pack up and get in alphabetical order by the door!" Maka ordered as she walked to the door with Gil in tow. It took some time, organizing her students and waving at them to stand still for a few seconds, but once they were obediently in line, Maka ushered them down the hall to the front of the school where the parents were expecting their children.

It was the same routine every day: Maka would wave or hug the child goodbye when they pointed out their parents to her. But today was different because Gil exploded with an enthusiasm not usually reserved for his father.

"I just want you see him! He's so cool!"

"Your dad is pretty cool," Maka commented as she waved two students off.

"No, no, no! He's not cool, he's just…ok, my—LOOK! _YES!_" Gil laughed joyously, tugging on the hem of Maka's shirt. "There's my uncle! You see him? Look! He's the coolest uncle _ever!_" He pointed toward a lean man's approaching figure. The sight made her pause, look a little longer than necessary. He was a stark contrast to Wes' business-professional look. This mans bleached white hair was unruly, kept back by a black headband. His sturdy black leather jacket, paired with black jeans and sleek black sneakers, reflected a much different message than Wes' responsible and mature. Not to mention that wide, sharp-toothed, grin on his face, those glinting, garnet, eyes hidden under stray strands of white hair, that slouched posture, a vaguely familiar one. It was extremely appealing, she thought to herself, _a lot_ of his traits appealed to her a little more than they should have.

They appealed to her in a very familiar fashion and Maka felt her stomach drop when she realized why.

"You're not Wes," Maka immediately said, cocking her head at him. She knew him from somewhere, but surely it couldn't be _th_at Soul, Maka thought uneasily. This had to be a coincidence, she added desperately. But the more she stared at him, the more she recognized him. She could very easily see how this lean and strong man was once the lanky and too-cool kid from when she was a teen. "Are you related to him?" she asked in a last ditch effort.

"Name's Soul," he drawled, startling her with the deep pitch of his voice. It was smooth, even. It was pleasant on the ears and horrifyingly familiar. She had been right. She had been _right_ and she had _checked him out—_Maka had never wanted to burn her treacherous eyes more than she did in that moment. "Ah. I see. You must be the teacher Gil has a crush on." He threw his head back in laughter when Gil pounded his fists into his stomach, whining for him to shut up before he told his dad. "I'm Wes' brother. I'm picking him up today."

"That explains the resemblance," Maka commented with a clear of her throat, smiling tightly at Gil when he looked up with a pout. She felt slightly sick to the stomach for blatantly checking out the guy she hated in high school. "Don't forget your homework tomorrow, Gil. I don't want to have to phone your dad again."

"I won't! Promise!" Gil insisted, standing beside Soul, seemingly over his embarrassment.

"If you don't forget it on the kitchen table again," Soul snorted when Gil whined he wouldn't; he was a man of his word, like his father.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Gil!" Maka beamed, kneeling down to give the boy a friendly hug of goodbye when he threw his arms wide open. The corner of her lip twitched when he didn't let go, forcing her to tug back to no avail. She caught his giggling and she sighed. "C'mon, Gil, let go! You're the last one! I have to go pack up my own things so I can go home!"

"Quit being a brat," Soul grabbed the back of the boy's shirt, ripping him off Maka in one pull like Velcro. "Go get in the car! I'll be with you in a bit!" Maka watched as Soul pushed Gil down to the car he had parked on the curb, the little boy waving back at her laughingly before running to the passenger seat to buckle himself in. "Jeez, no wonder he's all over you…."

"What?" Maka frowned at the implication. "I give all my kids hugs if they want. I'm not treating him any different than any of the others."

"Yeah, but he's seven. No need to break his heart so early."

"Oh, as if!" Maka snorted, crossing her arms. "He's seven – he has no idea what love is. Gil gets along with me better than any of his other teachers because my class is smaller. I can dedicate more attention to him – by the way, he's struggling with fractions."

"I'd be struggling, too. I hate that shit."

Maka cocked a brow. "Well, he needs to at least recognize that a half is like half of one hundred; fifty. He's always talking in class. I'd tell Wes to sit him down so he could stop talking so much with his friends."

"I'll be sure to relay the message." Soul drawled, and a little smirk crawled on his face. "_Maka_. Or is it Ms. Maka now? Or do you prefer Ms. Albarn?"

She stilled and turned to him, unnerved he remembered her. For a second there, she was relieved he hadn't recognized! Here she thought he had forgotten _all_ about her – plain, prudish, bookworm, Maka Albarn! She seethed. "How do you know my name? I don't think we've met before." She ground out for formalities sake.

"That hurts, Maka," Soul mocked, turning on his heel as Gil began to shout at Soul to hurry up, scowling at how much time he was spending with his teacher. "Don't you remember? We used to go to high school together. You were always holed up in the library – I'm not surprised you ended up being a teacher."

It was silent for a moment before her eyes slit and her expression finally grew hostile. She reminded Soul of a bristling cat, ready to claw his face off. He wasn't all that off-target.

"Soul Eater!" Maka hissed, dropping the act.

Soul grinned. "In the flesh."

"Ugh! Here I thought you hadn't recognized me, you shithead._ Get out of my face!"_

"Still sore about that one time Black Star hid all your books in sophomore year?"

"You _broke _into my locker and he _stole _all of my textbooks! I needed those for class, you jerk!" Maka snapped, fists clenched by her side. "I had to retake that test because I didn't have my textbook! That was the lowest score I ever got on a test! Ugh, just leave! Gil is waiting for you, and you're not supposed to leave a child unattended in a vehicle!" Maka rudely brushed him off, pivoting on her black heels and storming back to her classroom. Soul Eater! Ha! Who knew that guy had enough _brain cells_ to remember someone like her?

She should have seen it from miles ahead, Maka grimly thought, he wasn't _that_ stupid even though she liked to think so. She noticed the resemblance between Wes and Soul now, however: their silver hair being the foremost similarity. From therein, where Wes had dark, almost black, eyes, Soul had a rose-red color that she'd always found pretty but wasted on someone so arrogant. Wes was also kind, friendly, and polite while Soul remained his opposite: loud, _rude_, _lacked affect_, obnoxious, _haughty_, mocking, _sarcastic_, **morbid**….!

"Would it make any difference if I said I'm sorry and I've learned from my mistakes?" He shouted with hands cupped around his mouth.

"_NO!_" She screeched, bristling when she caught his laughter. She slammed the door to her classroom opened and went to her desk, packing up her things while she muttered obscenities under her breath. Blair had always teased Soul lewdly at school when she dropped by…that was probably the only time he could look flustered and furious. Otherwise, he was either calm and collected or grinning and rambunctious.

Not to mention a jerk and a bully!

"Stupid Soul!"

She dearly hoped Gil would take after Wes and _not_ Soul.

* * *

"Uncle Soul helped me with the fractions, Miss Albarn!" Gil beamed up at her the next day, his hair starting to resemble Soul's in its spikiness. She dearly hoped this was only a passing phase for the boy—he had so much potential to be a kind, well-meaning, adult. Not a trouble-making loser like his uncle.

Maka forced on a smile for his sake. "Oh, did he? That's great. Let me see what you know!" A small part of her hoped Soul had been completely _wrong_ but when Gil explained a few problems to her, Maka begrudgingly admitted that at least Soul could teach a kid a few things that _didn't_ involve picking locks or stealing books from lockers…

"Oh! Oh! I forgot to give you something!" Gil gasped, running over to his desk to take out a small envelop.

"What is it, Gil?"

"Uncle Soul asked me to give you this!" Gil happily said, holding it up to her with wide eyes. Maka took it from him hesitantly, her finger running under the flap. Other kids peered over, too, and Maka stepped away from their wandering eyes. "Open it! I wanna' see, too! I wanna' see!" Gil eagerly said, jumping up to get another look.

Maka held the letter away from him. "Ah, ah! Get back to work, Gil. You have twenty minutes before I collect it!"

"Aww!"

"Come on. Start working! I'll open this later." Maka giggled and walked back to her desk. She sat down and placed the letter on her desk. She had no idea what was inside but felt a swell of hope that it was an apology letter. Then she remembered this was _Soul Eater_, notorious for awful pranks and other idiocies, and Maka snarled low in her throat and tossed the letter into one of her drawers.

It was probably some _stupid_ letter, another prank from the infamous prankster! There was no use getting her hopes up. She liked to believe people like him didn't change. Immature, stupid, and mean! Maka felt those old feelings of animosity and hurt rise up her throat.

She locked the drawer for extra measure.

She didn't need her curiosity to get the best of her during school hours. She also didn't need one stupid letter to ruin her entire day. Another student raised their hand and Maka went over to help them, successfully ignoring her curiosity for what Soul could have written in the letter.

* * *

Maka wondered _when_ he would give it up and if she should just open a letter and see what all the fuss was about. She wasn't falling for his games, however, which was the single thought that kept her from opening the accursed envelops. She'd seen _enough_ throughout high school. She often caught him dumping his locker of love letters, sometimes ripping them while his admirers watched. Sometimes he and Black Star would make fun of the contents as the girl watched from around the corner, the heartless bastards! There was no way Soul Eater could muster up a decent apology letter to her! He was as rotten as the rest, even more since he flaunted it without a care in the world! He didn't seem to have a single kind bone in his body—just like his imbecile of a best friend Black Star!

Or that's what she told herself, anyway. Maka had trouble keeping her hands away from the drawer during the day now. What if it really was an apology letter? What if he had…changed?

"No, no," Maka shook her head. "Start thinking like that and he'll step all over you," she mumbled to herself. But she was sure Gil had another letter for her today: she could see him squirming in his seat, raising his hand every time she shifted. After a few more seconds of watching Gil jump up and down in his seat and groan loudly, Maka sighed and looked up. "Is something the matter, Gil?"

"Yes! I have to talk to ya', it's important!" He immediately said. His friends gave each other looks and the other students peeked over to see what Gil was taking out of his backpack.

"Alright, bring it here. Quickly, we have other work to do," Maka said, resignedly.

"Here! He says it's really, _really_ important you read it! Life or death important! You have'ta or else Uncle can die!" Gil told her this time, sternly.

"Life or death, hm? I sincerely hope it's the latter…" Maka muttered the last part to herself. She took this envelop from his hand and wondered if she'd toss it in with the last six or burn it when she got home. Maka wondered why he was going so far in the first place. Just what did he expect out of it? That she excuse him for the pranks he pulled on her during high school; for his attitude, everything? That she overlook what Black Star did to her and how he _humiliated_ her while he watched and stifled laughter like some asshole?

The thought fanned her anger.

"Aren't you gonna' open it, Miss Albarn?" Gil asked.

Maka smiled gently and leaned forward. "There are just some things that your uncle can't atone for, Gil. You tell him to stop sending me these silly little letters, okay? I won't read them. Because I won't _believe_ them. If he's ready to apologize, tell him he has to come say it to my face, not to hide behind paper. Apologies should always be said face-to-face," Maka sweetly said and tossed that letter in with the rest of them without another glance.

"Oh…okay! I'll tell him!" Gil nodded, firmly. Maka had a feeling he didn't understand but that was just fine: he didn't need to. This was a matter between adults.

"Alright, how about you go help some of your classmates, huh?" Maka perked up, clapping her hands and sending him a big smile. "They look like they could use your help! But really _help_ them, Gil, don't just talk to them!" She shouted after him, sighing when he instantly started conversation with his friends instead.

Her eyes wondered back to the drawer.

To open or not to open?

Maybe she could laugh at it just like he laughed at those girls' letters.

Maka sighed instead.

She wouldn't be able to do that. She was different: she wouldn't stoop that low. She didn't even think she'd be able to. He'd probably be able to sway her, even if it was a half-hearted apology. She was just too softhearted to hold grudges for so long. It was better if she didn't read them at all—she was not quite ready to forgive Soul for what he had done to her during her high school years.

With her resolve cemented, Maka adamantly ignored the letters that sat innocently in her drawer. She told herself that walking around the classroom was because she felt tired of sitting, not because she couldn't help but wonder just what he'd written to her all of those times…

* * *

It turned out that Gil had delivered the message successfully: Soul had come to confront her after all and she admitted she could have handled that a _little_ better.

It had gone something like this:

"Maka—!"

"I'm going to be late."

"Wait – dammit, Maka, listen to me! You said you wanted verbal apology and you're getting one so you better listen well because I won't repeat it – !"

"I'm late for my yoga class. Gil, make sure you do your homework. Okay?"

"Okay, Miss Albarn!"

"Maka, _c'mon_—! Hey, are you _seriou_s? You're just gonna' _walk away?"_

"Yep."

She guessed sauntering away, not at all acknowledging his presence, was a jerky move on her part. But she'd been meditating on her awful high school days, made worse with Black Star and Soul's joint bullying, and simply couldn't take an apology from him quite yet. Why was he trying so hard, anyway? Had he finally grown a conscious and realized just how much his idiocy had affected her during her adulthood? Sure, it had thickened her skin and made her a force to be reckoned with, but she could have really gone without the name-calling.

Pigtails had never made her more furious and depressed, _especially_ since some people thought it was _adorable_ and continued to call her that despite her forced attempts at diplomacy as she told them to _stop calling her that wretched name before she roasted them in their sleep._

_But you can't always have what you want_, Maka sighed and leaned back on her chair that otherwise pleasant afternoon.

She could try, though.

* * *

She gave him props—Soul Eater was some punk-ass kid who was always getting into trouble, but Soul _Evans_ was a persistent, patient, individual who still retained his punk-ass ways in his smirk and glinting eyes. It was a vast improvement, however, as she quietly seethed in her chair in her classroom

He stopped with the letters.

But now he was doing something worse, _much_ worse.

He was absolutely distracting, just like in high school. Only now he wasn't loud, he was too _quiet_. His hair was too white. His eyes were too red. His entire self was completely _emphasized_, as if he had a gigantic red target painted on his chest, the longer he sat there in the classroom with her. It rankled her worse than anything else, mainly because her eyes kept darting to him and she couldn't control that.

It didn't help that when they did, they often met his.

Maka crossed a leg over the other while she stared at her computer screen, finishing a homework assignment for her college class while Gil and a few other children sat in their round tables with crayons, plastic coins, and colorful paper splayed across the wooden tops. Alongside some of them sat their mothers or fathers – and across from Gil sat _Soul_, hands jammed in his pockets as he leaned back in the chair and watched his nephew finish his homework. Or generally watch _her_, which she was sure was an attempt at making her blow her lid.

It was working.

He was good.

These after-school tutoring sessions served as a way for parents to accompany their children and help them learn the material while becoming familiar with it as well. Usually, it served as babysitting for her, as some parents couldn't pick up their children at dismissal so the children instead waited for their parents with her while working on their homework or some crafts.

Someone neared and Maka paused, looking up curiously. The instant her eyes caught leather, Maka darted her eyes back to her screen and typed nonsense on her keyboard, intent on ignoring Soul. She needed to finish this assignment anyway, Maka thought to herself when he stood before her, and if Gil needed anything then the boy would bounce up to her on his own! He was self-sufficient that way and, for once, Maka was glad for it.

His shoe tapped idly on the tiled floor.

It got on her nerves.

She could only stand his obvious tapping for so long before her fingers halted mid-type and she took in a controlled breath. "Yes?" Maka asked through her teeth, raising her dark eyes to his cool ones. "Is there something you need…Soul?"

"Are you seriously gonna' hold a grudge against me for something I did to you when I was fifteen?" He said instead and Maka scoffed, her forest eyes darkening a little more.

"That wasn't the _only_ thing you two did to me – might I remind you that you two nearly made our AP exams invalid when you walked in during the middle of testing asking for pizza? And Black Star always picked on me! He gave me that ridiculous nickname that someone always has the _balls _to call me!" She exclaimed, hotly.

"Nickname?" Soul furrowed his brows. His eyes lit up. "Pigtails?"

Maka slit her eyes.

Soul immediately added, "Black Star started that, though, not me," and cringed when her emerald eyes narrowed with further dislike. This was not going as he planned it would. Then again, when it came to her, _nothing_ ever went as planned. It was one of the reasons he never got the guts – more like _chance_, since all of his chances were always ruined one way or another – to ask her to the Spring Fling. Or the Valentine's Day Dance. Or Homecoming. Or Winter Formal. Or Prom. Or any of the other dances their school hosted since he was a sophomore. And somehow, he was unable to even _apologize_ to her for being, he admitted, second-hand _mean_ to her during high school…

"You were _always_ with that idiot!" Maka whispered, conscious of the nosy parents eying them. "And you did nothing more than laugh and laugh _some more_ when everyone else laughed at _me!_" She reminded bitingly. She remembered the humiliation very well, as well as the embarrassment when Black Star had the unsightly nickname 'pigtails' pinned on her. She had even weighed the pros and cons of adopting a new hairstyle before her pride kicked in and she braved through it until graduation.

"Look, I'm not making any excuses," Soul began after a few seconds of letting her cool off, scratching the back of his head anxiously. Maka looked up at the sudden tone change, from amused to awkward and remorseful. "It wasn't cool to pick on you so much. I _did_ tell Black Star to lay off you at one point but he can be a real dick when he wants to be," Soul shifted his eyes to hers, adding apologetically: "So, I'm sorry for calling you pigtails so much and making fun of you. I didn't mean it meanly, I meant it more like a tease—yeah, I know, didn't translate that well. I get it now," he added when she arched a sharp brow. "But I didn't mean it that way. Black Star did, but I was a total moron in high school for following him around, alright_, I'm sorry_. I'm sorry, okay, I know better now and I know I fucked up. And I'm sorry for making you fail that test. And spilling coffee on your notebook," he added.

"Oh! I forgot about that one!"

Soul looked pained at the thought of making this harder on himself.

"But that was more of an accident…" She added as an afterthought, remembering he'd apologized and left to get her some napkins before following his friends out of the cafeteria.

"It was still _uncool…I _was uncool,_" _he admitted. "And I hope you can forgive me for being so uncool to you when we were in high school."

Maka wanted to stay scorned. It was easier for her to handle someone like Soul when she felt resentment, but she had never been a creature to hold grudges after such a sincere apology. He looked truly remorseful, red eyes downcast and brows creased and all. This was as close to a formal apology she would get from Soul, too, which was what prompted her to grumble: "…_Okay_."

He perked up, hopeful.

"I forgive you—but only this once! If this is a prank or some sort of sick joke…"

"It's not, I promise!"

She studied his eyes for a second before nodding. "I believe you."

He let out a breath and she watched him for a second, how his shoulders lost their strain and a faint smile lifted his lips. She dropped her eyes at the sight, feeling her face warm a little with gladness. He tried so hard to earn her forgiveness—perhaps he was turning over a new leaf and wanted to apologize to all the people he had wronged one way or another? But one more look at him and his jacket and she figured it was probably because she _happened_ to be Gil's second grade teacher. It would be awkward if Soul picked up Wes' son every so often and the teacher hated him….

"I didn't fail that test…"

"Huh?"

"I got an eighty," Maka sighed out. "My notes were in my textbook and since it was open-notes, I didn't study like I usually did."

"That's still pretty good," Soul offered.

"Ox rubbed it in my face for weeks," Maka grimaced. "It wasn't about passing the test; it was about being able to rub my better grade in his face."

"The nerd with the retarded hairstyle was your competition?" Soul leaned back against the desk, watching her lazily from over his shoulder. She laughed a little, that cold expression breaking into the kind face she always wore around Gil. He found his own shoulders relaxing at the expression: she appeared much more approachable than before. She looked like she did when she was with her friends: kind, friendly… pretty.

Really pretty.

She _really_ did some growing up over the years, Soul warily thought.

"Yes, him. He and I were always competing for the highest GPA and at one point we were both tied for first," Maka reminisced. "I won, obviously."

"Someone's conceited."

"It's not being conceited if it's true!"

"Can it, Maka, you're conceited…about your smarts," Soul grinned, turning to rest his elbows on the table while she puffed her cheeks out. From afar, Gil watched them interact with a small frown. He didn't know what his uncle was up to this time, but as they both laughed at something, Gil didn't like it one bit.

* * *

Maka admitted it: she got along with Soul better than she thought she would. After his apology, conversation with him was easier. Although he was still testing her limits with his teases, she could safely say he kept everything light and mumbled out apologies when he crossed the line. Which was never, really, only times when she whacked him on the head for being a general idiot—he had never crossed those unspoken lines, had never tried to. Sometimes he thought he did and apologized, though, and it was those times that convinced Maka that he really wasn't a bad guy.

She couldn't see any malice in his actions, either. He was being genuine with her, something she hadn't noticed in their high school years. He spoke to her a few times during those years and she was reminded of it as she spoke to him now—only before, he'd always looked so strung up, always gave her the impression he did not want to be around her. He was a lot more relaxed now, though, and she was just happy to know that at least he _wanted_ to spend time with her.

He had asked her for coffee a few days ago and she had agreed, needing some caffeine to get her through her night classes, and that was where most of their catching up had taken place at. It was also where most of their misunderstandings had been cleared up in.

Definitely, Maka thought with a soft smile, they had misread each other too many times to be fair.

"Is yoga part of your schedule?"

"This college had yoga as a class, and I need something to keep me happy for the kids," Maka shrugged, laughing sheepishly when he snorted. "So I take yoga and unwind myself from a long day at work. It's my final class for the day, before that I take a language class."

He perked up at this. "Oh, what language you trying to learn?"

"French."

He smirked. "French, huh? You like that part of Europe?"

"Mm, a lot, actually. I wanted to move over there—I'm still planning to, maybe after a few more years working here," Maka told him with bright eyes. "I've always been fascinated with the language and I've visited Paris before on vacation. I'd love to live there."

"Wanna' know a secret?" Soul prompted, leaning against her desk. For the past couple of weeks, he had taken to accompanying her near her desk whenever he brought Gil over to finish his homework. Which was a lot, mainly because Wes and _now_ Blair worked and Blair didn't get home, he told her, until about two hours after school ended. So she often had him take him out to eat or babysit him at home until she came, something he figured he might as well do in company of Maka. It also helped that Gil finished his homework in school and could play all he wanted at home.

"What? Please don't tell me you're French, I _know_ you're Welsh. You told me," Maka arched a brow at him.

"Got me," he snorted. "No. I can speak French."

She stared at him. Then her eyes widened like a cat's when he did nothing more than look back, that same amused smile playing on his lips.

"_Really?"_ She gasped, eyes wide. He had to look away: he was hot and his hands were sweaty. How uncool, he groaned to himself.

"Y-yeah. I took French in high school, remember? I had the class with you. I retook it in college in order to learn it well. Then I went over to France for a bit, rented a room in Bordeaux and lived there for like half a year," he grinned when she leaned forward, absolutely starry-eyed at the thought. One reckless decision that had its benefits, Soul thought as he answered all of Maka's enthusiastic questions.

"Is the architecture really as—!"

"_Miss Albarn_, can you grade my paper?" Gil loudly said, stomping in-between them. Maka blinked but nodded, taking the worksheet from Gil and walking over to her desk for a felt marker while Soul set his sight on the smaller boy standing before him.

"Oi. That's rude, what'd Blair tell you about cutting into other people's conversations?"

Gil only shifted, not looking at him.

"Gil?"

He didn't look at him.

"What's with that face? You okay?" Soul frowned, watching his nephew sour and look away. "Hey, I asked you a question. Gil. Gilbert!"

"You said you'd only come _one time with me!"_ Gil finally snapped, watching Maka mark a question as she skimmed the answers. "'Cuz…cuz dad couldn't come! But now you're _always_ coming and – and talking…to her…"

"What's that supposed to mean? I thought you liked hanging out with me," Soul frowned, watching his nephew shift on his other foot. "What's the real problem, huh?" Soul leaned over a bit, scrutinizing his troubled face.

"…Umm…" And he snuck a look at his teacher.

Immediately, Soul understood and a grin cracked his face. "Listen here, Gil, I'll give you some advice," Soul drawled, leaning down a bit more when the boy looked up at him curiously. "Maka's _way_ too old for you. You're seven. She's _twenty five._ You do the math, kid, it won't work out. But it can with me. So let me deal with this," he flatly told him, watching him deflate a little. He glanced at Maka and then back at Gilbert. "I got this."

He hoped he did because if he didn't then that was just _sad_.

And not to mention completely uncool because you'd think that after all these years, he'd muster up enough courage to ask his high school crush on a date. But he was working up to that! He needed to time it right. There was a time and place for everything and although this might be the place, it certainly wasn't the time.

"That's not true! I can so!" Gil whined. "She – she isn't that big! I'm gonna' be eight!"

"Gil, I thought you liked that other girl that sits next to you during class," Soul groaned, sighing _again_ when he began to argue the _clear_ differences between that girl and Miss Maka. This kid was unbelievable – he was jealous about the amount of time he spent with Maka! It was no wonder he'd been grouchier towards him!

"Gil, go back to correct the ones you got wrong. Did you rush through it or what? You got more wrong than usual," Maka told him as she returned, handing him his sheet back. "If you need any help, just call for me, okay?"

"I need help!" He immediately said.

Soul resisted slapping a hand over his face. He had no tact, either.

"Oh," Maka sent Soul a suspicious look. "Okay. Come on, then. Soul, can you shut my computer and put it in my bag for me, please?" Maka asked over her shoulder while Gil dragged her to his desk.

"Sure…" Soul did as he was told once Gil was seated, Maka hovering over him maternally.

Simply because his nephew happened to have a massive crush on his teacher didn't mean that would deter Soul from her. After all, Soul's feelings for the second grade teacher _clearly_ out-weighed Gil's, if he had any say. It had been, what, _nine_ years or so since he went to school with her and he was _still_ crushing hard on her? He could even go as far to say he was _in love_ with her since she was the only girl who had survived the task of time and remained close to his heart.

It got on his nerves. He thought he got over her after high school—he even dated a chick in France! Although, now that he thought about it, it hadn't lasted very long.

She might have had green eyes.

She might have had blonde hair, too.

Soul ran a hand down his face—she might have _looked_ like Maka, now that he _really_ thought about it. He hadn't realized it at the time, but now it was very obvious. Maka had filled out that schema for the woman he wanted to spend his life with, and replicas hadn't boded well.

Soul looked at her as she helped Gil, how her hair fell down her cheek and how her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. She was such an adorable girl in high school, but now she was just plain pretty—there was hints of her old childishness, in the way she laughed and how she smiled, but he could see how time had changed her.

Maka had clearly gone through some major changes since he last saw her all those years ago – for one, he'd have to bite his tongue on calling her tiny-tits. Two, she'd filled out quite nicely. Nice and svelte, just his type as it happened (although, to be fair, she had _always _been his type). But one thing that hadn't changed, he decided, were her childish features – those wide emerald eyes, chubby cheeks, that sweet smile that always seemed to linger on her lips. She was beautiful when she smiled and now that he was older he wondered what compelled Black Star to call her names behind her back. She was _clearly_ a naturally pretty girl, if that idiot couldn't see it…

He meandered over to them, standing behind Maka for a moment before peeking over her shoulder to the question she was explaining. When he saw it, Soul was convinced that Gil was just trying to get her to spend more time with him. It bugged him. Was he seriously going to compete against a _seven year old _now?

He probably would.

That bugged him even more.

It bugged him just how easily, without even trying, Maka managed to make his cool melt away like ice on sun-beat concrete.

"It's nineteen, Gil, you know that," Soul rolled his eyes, stiffening when Maka suddenly straightened. Her back bumped against his chest, his hand reaching out for her elbow to steady her. They stilled for a split second, both very aware of how close they were, before Soul took a step back and Maka hastily made her way beside the desk, flattening her hands over her skirt as nervous habit forced her to, pink dusting her cheeks.

"Nu uh! She taught me how to do it!" Gil proudly said, glancing at Maka dreamily.

Maka scratched her cheek a bit. "Gil, will you be okay now? I can't give you the answer to each one, and you should know this already. If you don't, then we're going to have to talk to your da—!"

"No! I'll do it right!" Gil quickly said, fearing his father. That seemed to be the ticket for Gil focused on his work, both adults fading into the background. Soul came up beside Maka, glancing down at her as she glanced around the room to see if anyone else needed her aid.

"He's jealous," Soul flatly said, watching her snap her head to him in shock.

"Who? Gil? Of what?"

"Me," Soul smirked when she furrowed her brows, an odd look crossing her face. "You pay more attention to me, obviously."

Maka arched a brow, not exactly denying it. "Now who's being conceited?"

"It's not being conceited if it's true," Soul cheekily tossed back, adding: "Of course you'd pay more attention to a totally cool guy like me. I already told Gil to get over it – you're, what, twenty five?" He snorted.

"Twenty six," Maka corrected with a clear of her throat at his staring because she actually looked twenty three and he was teasing her about twenty five. He didn't take her to be the same age as him. "Gil will have a new teacher next year, I'm sure he'll get over it quickly. It's just a phase. "

"Twenty six, huh? I take it you're not married yet?" Soul asked, gazing at her ring-less finger.

"Oh, no! Not at all!" Maka laughed, sheepishly. "I don't have time for those things right now. I'm really busy between my day job and my night classes. It's weird, though, right…most of our friends in high school are married already."

"Yeah. I know three who are," he added absently. But he wasn't concerned about that, no. He was debating his next move because that was it – all he needed right there in that simple sentence. She didn't have time for 'those things', meaning she did not have time for dating, meaning she was about as single as she could get. It was simply a too-cool situation for Soul. Now he had the affirmative that he had a chance, even a small one. But it was still a chance.

Now all he needed was to convince her he was _worth_ fitting into her hectic schedule, Soul groaned to himself. That would be difficult: Maka had always been a very strict and studious person, no-nonsense and not easy to crack under pressure.

But Soul had always been hardheaded.

Challenges were always welcomed.

And Maka was certainly a challenge he didn't mind taking in the least.

* * *

"It's terrible."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is," Maka slumped over in her seat, burying her face in her arms. Soul sat across from her, his ankles crossed under his chair as Maka had a mini-crisis over her awful French accent. She had heard him read a sentence of her French homework out loud and pouted, apparently envious of his seemingly flawless accent.

Cute, even if her envy was misplaced.

"I started off really rough, too. You can't be as bad as I was when I was learning," Soul assured. "Just read it to me so I can help you."

"You'll laugh," Maka accused, her cheeks hot.

"If you keep saying I'll laugh, I'll do it just to spite you."

"...Meanie," she pouted and squealed when he reached over to ruffle her loose hair. She wore it down today, something that shocked him when he met her up at the cafe. She usually wore it up and he had always liked it that way, but now he was more fond of her loose-hair look— the way it fell down her shoulders, her neck, made his heart pick up and his eyes wander. But he always made sure to focus when she talked; no need to make a bad impression, he was walking on thin ice as it was.

She had asked help with her French accent earlier, as she had an oral to present in a week's time, and she had trouble pronouncing various words due to her Japanese background. He wasn't so surprised that her native tongue was Japanese but, just from the little words he managed to squeeze out of her, he could definitely hear how it confused her tongue.

"C'mon, Maka," Soul coaxed. "You wanna' pass this class, right? Or do you wanna' have your rebellious phase _now_ and fail it?"

Maka struggled but eventually she gave in, sitting up straight. She looked so absolutely helpless; it made him want to squeeze her to his chest in an embrace. He refrained, of course—that was all sorts of uncool. And it was uncool to hug an unsuspecting person, a girl, just _Maka_ in general.

"J…J'ai l'après-midi..." and he quirked a smile at the roughness around her words, remembering how he would glare at his worksheets when he was younger. He remembered how, when he moved to Bordeaux and tried to get a job at the local fish market, the owner had a mighty laugh when he introduced himself. He had been who had truly taught Soul how to speak properly, that burly man who called himself Joe Buttaki.

"Wow."

Maka perked up, hopeful.

"You _suck, _holy—OUCH!"

"Don't you think I know that already?" She fumed.

"You didn't let me finish!" he barked. Maka huffed. "You suck, but you're not as bad as I was when I was learning. I learned how to speak right at my job. When I moved to Bordeaux, my parents restricted access to my bank account."

Maka blinked. "What, isn't that illegal?"

Soul sighed. "It was a shared account. I didn't bother to open up a separate one….so, basically, I was broke aside from what money I took out of the bank before I moved to France. So I needed to get a job."

"You worked over there that half year, right?"

"Yeah, at a fish market, y'know, selling fish, not using my college education at all,_"_ he rolled his eyes and Maka giggled. "I like fish, so I figured I could get a decent salary there to pay for my room and my things."

Maka wrinkled her nose. "Ew. I can't believe you did that for half a year."

"You don't like fish?"

Maka shook her head furiously. "It makes me nauseous."

"I don't think we'll be able to get along very well, Ms Albarn," he said, with all seriousness.

Maka grinned cheekily. "I don't think we will, Mr. Evans."

He rolled his eyes. "Anyway, the owner of the market was the one who taught me how to speak French right. I think the only reason he let me work for him was coz he said he liked my jacket and I said, 'Oui, Je t'aime', which basically means I told him I liked him," he pressed his lips together as Maka stifled giggles into her hand. "Which I hadn't meant. But it made 'em laugh and I got the job. I liked working there, it was fun and cool and I built up my vocabulary when I talked with the natives."

"Wow...it sounds like a really wonderful experience."

"Yeah, I lived by the port so I got to learn _all_ the dirty sailor words in French," he grinned toothily.

Maka sighed. "You would be excited about that."

"It helped me out once or twice," he shrugged. He pointed at her paper, holding her gaze as he said, "Finissons, oui?"

"Oh...oui," she pinked, feeling her gut flutter at his stare. Recently, there had been more instances where he would hold her gaze and it would make her want to look away immediately. It didn't help that he was being so kind to her, unlike what she remembered high school Soul to be. He really had done some growing up, she found herself thinking some days. He was no longer that rowdy and rude boy he had been when she first met him.

She found that she rather liked Soul now, liked him a lot.

She hadn't dated since she was in university, giving up mostly because of all the troubles she had with her previous boyfriends, but she was sorely tempted to give dating one last shot. If only one more shot at love, she thought, because she was not getting any younger.

But now came the real difficult part: she had so many issues with her past boyfriends, with them being unable to provide her with the basic trust she needed in order to be true with them. She looked up from her worksheet as Soul explained how to pronounce certain inflections. Would Soul be able to show her he was really a man of his word? Or would he fail like the last three had because they grew tired of constant reassurance and patience and _trying_?

"You alright?" Soul asked, noticing her blank look.

"O-oh, yeah! I'm fine!"

"What were you staring at?" He asked, glancing behind him a bit.

Maka flushed; he had noticed that, had he? She was about to deny it, but her mouth had other plans: "I was just...that guy over there, looked like someone I knew."

"That guy?" He pointed at a brown-haired guy speaking in low tones with another person. She went along with it, nodding. "Friend?"

"No," she shook her head, looking back down at her worksheet. "It wasn't him, I was mistaken."

"...Boyfriend?" He prompted. Maka tensed. He narrowed his eyes. "Ex?"

She scowled. "Would you drop it?"

"Touchy subject?"

"Isn't it always with an ex?" She deflected.

"I don't know, mine isn't."

She looked back up, curious. "You dated?"

"For a bit, yeah," he shrugged. He leaned back in his chair. "I was only serious with one girl. I met her when I was in France."

"...Was she the reason you moved back here?" She dared ask.

Soul actually laughed at her suggestion. "_No!_ By serious, I meant I lasted like three months with her and then we broke it off coz it wasn't working out. I didn't want," he hesitated here but her curious look egged him on, "I didn't want to _just_ sleep with her, I wanted an _actual_ relationship. Y'know, _maybe_ a decent conversation some days?" He shrugged. "She didn't see it that way, said I was being too sentimental."

"I don't think that's being too sentimental at all. Everyone longs for someone who they can talk to, or relate to," Maka told him softly. She smiled reassuringly when he looked at her. "I think she was wrong in letting someone like you go."

"Someone like me?" he snorted. "You're cute. I'm a lost cause."

"No, you're not."

"You even said it yourself!"

"I was mad at you when I said that," she chuckled. She held his eyes before he could argue. "You're not a lost cause, you're more than that. You're very kind; you're just a little rough around the edges. I think you'd make a great boyfriend."

He stared. He stared and then abruptly sat straight, nearly spilling his coffee over in his haste. Before she could ask if he was fine, he brusquely asked, "What about you? You dated?"

Maka blinked and then nodded. "Y-yeah, during college. I had, um, three relationships but...my first boyfriend was a total jerk," she admitted with a sheepish laugh. "Let's just say he stood me up...a lot, because he was hung over from partying too hard," she winced at the memories. "Second one, he wasn't too bad. He just...never seemed like he was there when we were together, if that makes any sense? It felt like talking to a wall."

He looked like he understood a little too well. He waved her on to continue.

"I dated the third one for about a year," she admitted. His eyes widened: that was _a lot_ longer than he expected and her downcast look made his stomach drop. "He was better. He wasn't a jerk to me, he was really nice, and he listened to me. Just..." She hesitated. She hadn't told anyone the real reason—had told her friends it was just because she hadn't been feeling it anymore. It was partial truth but the real reason had been graver. "I didn't feel like I could trust him. He gave me reasons, but they felt shallow and thin. Most times, he wouldn't tell me where he was. He didn't tell me about his day, he made me tell him about _mine_. At first, I didn't mind, he was always kind of quiet. But then, when I grew curious about his day...he just waved it off. He waved everything off, even when I asked what his favorite food was or his favorite movie or book," she picked at the hem of her shirt. "So one day, I told him it wasn't working out. I knew next to nothing about him and we'd been together for nearly a year," she laughed bitterly. "He was basically a stranger."

"Maybe he just had trust issues?" Soul offered, not liking the saddened look in her eye. He didn't like seeing her anything but happy. Maka and _sad _was simply inconceivable; they were to very different words that should never be used in the same sentence.

"No...I asked him if there was someone else. I told him I'd stay if there wasn't. If maybe it was just something he needed time with," Maka paused, feeling old feelings of resentment pool in her chest. _Right_, she hadn't told anyone because it had been embarrassing, to have been in the same situation as her _mother _after she told everyone she would never, never fall into that sort of relationship. She looked up at Soul, tired. "He said it was better if we parted ways, before I really hated him. So that kind of explains what happened the entire time."

Soul clenched his fist and held her gaze until she looked away, running her hands through her hair with a blow of air.

"He cheated on you."

"A lot, actually," the corner of her lip down-turned. Perhaps she would have noticed if she hadn't been so caught up in her schoolwork, but even then he had been very sly. Maka doubted she would have really caught him, which was what infuriated her the most. "It wasn't just one, it was various. I find out later, ironically, from my papa."

"Your dad knew the entire time?"

"Kind of. Papa... is a cheater, too," she admitted. "He likes women too much to be tied down, which is why mama divorced him when I was still in high school. So, naturally, he'd know a cheater when he saw one. Of course, he'd always yell at any guy who had my attention—I didn't think any more of it."

"But he found out on his own?" Soul paused. "Uh, hey, wasn't your dad that red-haired guy who picked you up from school? Didn't he work as dean at our school for a bit? Spirit…right?"

Maka looked pained. "Ugh. That year. Yeah, before he was fired for sleeping with the math and gym teacher. At the same time."

Soul stared. "What, that was _him?" _

Maka rubbed her temples. "It was. Unsurprisingly. After that, he got a job elsewhere, but my papa has always been very paranoid about the boys I date, so he…"

"…stalked the dude, right? What a creep," Soul deadpanned.

Maka smiled. "But it was for a good cause this time. Papa told me about a week after I broke up with him. He felt so accomplished, had video evidence and photographic proof of each girl he'd been seeing behind my back." She laughed as she remembered how proud her papa was at the thought of catching 'that greasy-haired bastard', as he called him, in the act. "So you can guess his glee when I told him I already knew."

"He sounds like a soap opera dad."

"He takes the title of dad _too_ seriously for someone who sleeps with a different woman every week," she dryly told him. He arched a brow. Maka shrugged, holding her hands up. "Papa is a player. He doesn't even try to hide it anymore. He might be kinda' old now, but he's still out there."

"Jeez," Soul grimaced, unable to imagine how it'd feel to have so many women. Well, he _could_ imagine, but the thought of just using them and being used in return gave Soul a stomach ache. He had trouble being too close to people, which was the main reason he was never as adventurous as Black Star when it came to dating. Even with his ex-girlfriend, there had been too many things he kept to himself. Their trust had been thin, he accepted eventually, too thin to ever last. "Talk about being a real womanizer. So uncool."

Maka rolled her eyes; no doubt. "But I'm happy he tried. He was only looking after me," she fiddled with her shirts hem. "He didn't want me to fall into the wrong hands."

"Did you love him?" Soul asked her, tentatively. He could say quite plainly that he had never truly loved someone in that way. He had cared for his girlfriend at the time, but it hadn't hurt him terribly to part ways with her. It had him broody for a week or so, but he had been able to put it behind him. But that world-shaking despair those in love suffered? He had never felt it.

"No," she shook her head. "I never felt like I could trust him, how could I ever love him?" She looked at him as she said this. "None of them. None of them bothered to show me that I could rely on them if I really needed to. I'm more hurt that I allowed that to go on for as long as it did. I'm actually happy that I'm not with him anymore."

"That makes two of us," Soul smirked at her. He leaned back in his chair coolly. "I hear real heartbreak is fucking terrible."

Maka's lips curved into a tiny smile. "Mm. So everyone says. Is it weird that we've been alive for so long and haven't felt it?"

"Nah," he cheeked. "I say we're lucky."

"Or not," she cautioned. "What if we really find someone we can love and they end up breaking our hearts? We'd be severely under-prepared for it, since we've never felt it before."

He smiled softly at her, something that made his eyes a pliable shade of maroon and made her heart yearn for something it shouldn't. Her throat closed up and pleasant shivers ran down her skin as they held each other's eyes, a smile lifting her lips unbidden.

"I don't think she will."

"What if she does?" she asked, daringly.

"She's not that type of person," he assured, leaning back in his seat coolly. "I think she wouldn't love if she didn't think she'd be loved back."

Maka flashed her eyes to her worksheet before she lost herself in his, changing the subject back to the topic at hand. But her night was dreamy, with her hands lingering on his arm as they left the cafe and his side-hug enveloping more of her than before, because she couldn't help but feel as if he was talking about _her_ when he said those things.

And, unexpectedly, that made her very happy.


	2. Chapter 2

**lost in the moment  
by.** _Poisoned Scarlett_

"Hello, Ms. Albarn, how are you today?" Wes asked her a few days later, taking Maka by surprise when she did not find Soul waiting for Gil.

"Oh. Hello, Wes! It's been awhile since I've seen you around here," Maka greeted with a smile, nudging Gil to go with his father. He did so with a great shout, hugging his father's legs for a second before a friend caught his attention and he sling-shot toward him. "Usually Soul comes to pick Gil up! Is he here?"

"Soul got caught up with something at work so he called me ahead of time," Wes explained. "I'm taking Gil with me back to the office today. Hopefully he doesn't make too much of a ruckus..."

"Promise him some ice-cream and he'll be an angel," she suggested.

"Do you bribe my son, Ms. Albarn? Why didn't I think of that before?" He joked and she beamed, definitely able to say that she had missed the man's humor. Wes Evans was a pleasant character to be around although most women wanted him around for less than decent reasons. Maka was glad she was not one of those women although, now that she thought about it, a few of the teachers had taken a liking to Soul. She supposed she was simply more of a Soul-girl than a Wes-girl, even though both brothers had some striking similarities. It was not so much their physical features than their attitude, something that surprised Maka when she realized she had a secret love for sarcastic sweethearts.

"Soul talks about you a lot," Wes suddenly said, giving her a genial smile that Maka was instantly suspicious of.

"Does he?" she replied, making sure not to give anything away with her smile. "Well, he helps Gil a lot with his homework when he stays over, and he helps me keep track of the other children, too, since some parents can't pick up their kids at the end of classes."

"That's strange. He doesn't usually go out of his way to help another person. He must like you," Wes commented, casually, "if he's doing so much."

"It's not much, it's just making sure the kids don't leave my classroom without my permission," Maka told him, offering him a guileless smile that she was very sure he was internally glaring at. She knew an interrogation when she saw one, having been at the butt of them most times with her friends. No doubt he was curious about the reasons Soul had been spending so much time at the elementary school, in particular _her_.

Truth be told, she was curious, too. However, she did not want anyone to know if things were going the way she thought they would. If they were, she did not want anything to hinder progress. Surely, she thought with an inward sigh, she was taken a little bit too much with the younger Evans if she _actually _wanted to see where things would go.

"Well, hopefully you could cram some work ethic into my little brother," Wes wrapped up, taking a step back. "He could use it. He's always been on the rebellious side."

"I can tell," Maka quipped, waving at him as he called his son over to his side. Both of them sent her a goodbye wave, Gil the only one to shout it out to her, and Maka went back to her classroom when she saw a few kids standing lonesome by the gates. She felt her heart weight for the shortest one in the litter, a little girl who went by the name of Angela. "Hey, Angie. Why the long face?" Maka asked, holding her hand out to her. "Don't you want to go with the others?"

Angela shook her head and remained quiet. She took Maka's hand instead and let her lead her into the classroom. But Maka remained concerned, watching the little girl absently toy with a few colored pencils. She sat away from the group and eventually was the only one left when four thirty came around. Maka nervously glanced at the clock; no one had ever lasted this long in picking up their child.

Maka stood up from her chair, walking over to Angela. She pulled on a bright smile, but it faltered when the little girl looked away. Maka knelt before her desk, holding her chin up in her hand as she said, "Hey, Angela. What's wrong? You look sad."

"M'not sad," Angela mumbled, picking at the corner of her scratch paper.

"...If something is bothering you, you can always tell me," Maka assured, smiling gently when Angela looked up nervously. "I would do my best to help you, I promise. That's what I'm here for."

Angela looked back down and when she looked back up, Maka saw tears welling in her eyes. "Y-yesterday some bad lady called Medusa took me away from my daddy!"

Maka's brows creased. "Why did she do that?" She grabbed one of the chairs from behind her to sit, reaching over to hold the little girls hand comfortingly.

"I dunno'!"

"Maybe she just wanted to talk to him?"

"N-no…she says daddy d-doesn't take care of me good but it's not true coz he buys me clothes a-and he takes me to the ice-cream store when I've been good! He says that he loves me a lot and he even lets me sleep with him when I get bad dreams a-and he checks under my bed for the boogey man! Who's gonna' keep the boogey man away now that I'm not with him, he's going to _eat me!_" She cried loudly, clutching her hand tightly.

Maka's eyes softened and rubbed her other hand over the little girls tiny one, having a good idea of what this was about. "Listen, that lady doesn't know what she's just done. But don't be mad at her, okay, she's just doing her job. She might have made a mistake, taking you away from your daddy, but everything will be okay soon," Maka soothed her, squeezing her hand with a sad smile on her face. "I'm sure your daddy will do everything he can to get you back if he can. You just have to be strong for him, okay, and not let the boogey man get you when you're down! If you're strong, the boogey man won't come for you. So be strong, okay?"

Angela nodded her head, sucking back sobs.

"No more crying," Maka soothed, rubbing away her tears with her thumbs. "You have to be strong for your daddy, remember? So the boogy man doesn't get you?"

"M-mhm!" Angela sniffled loudly. "Okay."

"Do you know who was supposed to pick you up?" Maka asked, leading the little girl by the hand to the office. "So we can call them?"

"I-I don't know," Angela replied, apprehensively.

"It's okay. We'll find them," Maka assured, not wanting to stress out the little girl any more. Maka had just packed her things and locked up the classroom when her phone rang, the caller ID reading _Soul. _"I didn't leave a lot of homework this time, did you get any done in the class?" Maka asked as she picked up the phone, answering and pressing it to her ear.

"S-some…"

"That's good, then you won't have so much when you get home—hi, Soul," Maka answered upon hearing his voice, leading the little girl to the office with their hands swinging between them. "I'm still at the school, actually. Ah, I'll tell you later—I have to get something done over here. I'll call you when I'm done, alright? Okay. Bye." She hung up soon after, sending Angela a smile although she was worried of what would become of the little girl.

She could only take her to the office for now, and she was glad to know that Marie was in today. Marie was the sweetest lady Maka had ever had the pleasure of knowing and she had taken Angela from her hands with a beaming smile and a cheerful reassurance that everything would be okay. Angela seemed to believe it more from her than from Maka, which was not a problem for the elementary school teacher as Marie had that effect on people.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" Maka waved at Angela.

"I'll take care of her," Marie gave Maka a meaningful look before closing the door to her office, taking with it Angela's sad little wave.

Maka stood in the hall for a second, quiet, before cursing softly. She headed over to the parking lot with a troubled frown. That was one way to ruin her day—she _hated_ seeing children so sad, especially with such situations. It always bummed out her evenings. She wished she could do more, but her help could only reach so far. If Maka had any say, she would've taken the little girl home with her to ensure the boogey man didn't get her, and then do everything she could to have her father regain custody of her. Maka had met Mifune many times: he faithfully attended every parent-teacher conference and party they had and had always picked Angela up at 2pm on the dot.

Today was the only day he had faltered, no doubt because he no longer had custody of her. She didn't know who was in charge of her, but obviously Mifune had been forbidden from interacting with the little girl. Maka hoped that whatever mishaps Mifune had with the courts, they were settled soon so Angela could return to her proper place by her father's side.

Once inside her car, Maka flipped her phone open. Her finger hovered over _Soul_. For a second, she did not want to call him. She wanted to drive him and bury her face in her pillows, perhaps bake some brownies and eat them while she read a book. She could still make it to her yoga class, but she had no desire to bend over backwards when she felt so terrible. But perhaps—no, Maka snapped at herself, that was dumb. She was being dumb for actually feeling _lonely_. She yearend for company even if it was just for a few seconds. Maka stared at her phone. Just for a _few seconds_—

"Hey," Maka greeted, reclined in the seat. Her fingers picked at the leather of her seats as Soul asked her why she had to miss a class—making a smile quirk her lips when he said if her rebellious phase was really happening. "No, don't be stupid. I'm twenty six, I'm too old for that."

"_You can be sixty and have a rebellious phase,"_ he insisted.

"Shut up. I had to stay because one of the kids in my class didn't get picked up. I asked her why and she started crying, saying someone from child services had taken her away from her dad." Maka let her head bump against the head of her headrest. Her mouth was not cooperating again, saying more than she wanted. "...I don't want to go to my yoga class. I feel sick."

"_You gonna' be alright?"_

"Yes."

It was quiet for a second, then he asked, _"Wanna' tell me about it? There's more that's bugging you." _

"No."

"_Maka, you suck at lying." _

"...I just hate seeing my kids that way," she finally admitted. She flicked her knee and exhaled a heavy breath. "She's only six, why does she have to go through that? Mifune isn't a bad guy; I've met him, he's a little on the serious side but he'd never do anything to hurt Angela. He loves her to bits."

"_Child services had a reason to take her from the house,"_ Soul reasoned. _"Maybe he's not the guy you think he is."_

"He _is!_" Maka argued, hotly. "Medusa is just a piece of—I mean this isn't the _first _time she's done this!" She pressed her lips together and sank in her seat. "Hng. I'm getting a headache just thinking about it," she shifted her car into reverse, deciding a long, hot, bath would help sooth her worries. "Anyway, what did you call me for earlier?"

"_I was just wondering if you wanted to go out to eat,"_ Soul asked and she felt her heart pick up at the suggestion. _"I got out of work late today and I could go for some take-out. But if you're feeling like crap, you should get home and do whatever nerds do in their spare time to relax."_

"You mean watch horror movies all night with all the junk food you can imagine?" She hoped and giggled when his tone went warning, telling her not to tempt him that way. After a second, she figured it couldn't hurt. "Do you want to? I own all of the Friday the 13th movies, unless you have to be home?" She felt her spirits rise when he said no, he didn't have to be home; in fact that was a terrific idea, way better than his casual dinner idea. He would drop by the store to pick up some chips since she didn't have any and maybe pick up a few more things, ignoring her when she said he didn't have to.

"_Movie marathon it is,"_ he told her and she smiled, feeling better. _"I'm only agreeing cuz it's Saturday tomorrow and I've got nothing to do. I can afford to come home late."_

"And sleep til dusk," she added jokingly.

"_Nothing new."_

"I can't sleep past nine," Maka told him honestly, driving back to her apartment quickly so she had some time to shower and clean up before Soul arrived. "I tried once and it was just awful. I had to get up and do something; I can't just lie in bed staring at the ceiling!"

"_Seems to me you don't know how to properly waste your life. I'll have to teach you sometime," _he smirked and she rolled her eyes, already seeing the familiar edge of her apartment complex.

"I forgot you're the world-champion in laziness," she cheeked, laughing when he deadpanned that he knew _at least_ three other people who would challenge and gladly defeat him in that category. "I'm home. The passcode is pound 5634 to get in. I'm on the second floor, apartment 214. It's on your right," Maka explained to him, relaying her address and telling him that if the front door didn't open the first time, to do it again because it liked to jam sometimes.

She was quick to hurry into her apartment, take a quick shower and change into some casual clothes for the evening. She had debated between her raggedy crosshatch shirt or her new tank top before she decided on the tank top. There was no reason to don a completely outdated shirt. Her eyes wandered over to her spaghetti strap she had lying on her bed and she flushed, scolding herself. That was completely out of the question! She wanted to take this slow and she wanted to be able to trust him, first and foremost, although he already earned a good amount of trust from her. But slow was good; slow and steady won the race.

She didn't want whatever was brewing between them to _end _so soon, she wanted to preserve it—prolong it, if she could.

* * *

She had been making a chocolate smoothie when she heard a knock. She stopped and hurried to the door, taking a breath and opening it with a smile when she saw Soul.

"I got Chinese anyway. I'm hungry," he held out a bag and she took it, allowing him in with a cheery smile. "I guessed on your tray so if you don't like some of it, it's cool. No fish, though," he assured, trying to pass off his gesture with a cool ruffle of his hair. She smiled, touched by it regardless.

"You didn't have to..." she trailed off, placing the trays on her kitchen table. "You can go sit on the couch for now and choose out which movie we should start with. Unless you want to start from the first one?"

"We should, if this is a true marathon," he shrugged. "If we skip around, it'll mess us up."

"Okay then!" Maka went back to her blender, starting it up again. "I'm making a chocolate smoothie—do you want one?"

"Yeah, thanks!" and she stopped the blender to add more ice, starting it up again soon after. When she finished, she poured both of them some and was happy to know there was extra left over. She walked into the living room to find Soul slouched back on her couch, going through the movie cases idly as he waited for her. Maka tapped the glass on the back of his head and grinned when he jumped, looking at her with a tiny glare.

"We haven't even started yet and you're already jumpy?" She teased, going over to get their food. She rounded the couch and handed him his tray of take-out, grabbing the first movie and popping it into the DVD tray.

"Ha, ha. Funny." He chugged half of the glass in one go. "Nice TV. I didn't peg you as the type."

"I didn't buy it," Maka paused to look up at it. He had bought it with such pride that she felt bad for thinking about taking it back for a smaller one. "My papa bought it for me for my birthday. I was going to return it because it was way too big for me and I don't watch a lot of TV, but he looked so happy about it that I couldn't."

"Good thing you didn't, too," Soul said as he forked some chow-mein into his mouth. "It's a damn good TV. Watching movies on this thing is gonna' be awesome."

Maka smiled and went to take a seat beside him, using her remote for the rest. It turned out that he got all her favorite food, something he pinked at before he regained his haughty bravado. She had been right in wearing her safe tank top—halfway through the marathon, at about two am after consuming a gross amount of soda and chips, they laid slumped against each other lazily as they watched Jason stalk another group of high school students.

"Y'know," Soul slurred, eyes heavy. "After three movies, I realize that all the Friday the 13th movies are basically the same, just with different people. Everyone dies, even Jason dies—he just comes back for the sequel."

"I liked the Jason vs. Freddy one," Maka input sleepily. His shoulder was warm but when she shifted earlier on, she discovered that his chest was even warmer. She shifted a little so she wasn't crushing her arm against him and let sleepiness relax her bones when he wiggled his arm from under her and rested it gently over her shoulders. "At least in that one they focus more on Jason and Freddy—everyone else is just in the way."

"That makes things worse."

"I thought it was nice," she murmured. After a moment of dozing, she heard his chest rumble with words and she woke up enough to catch:

"...feel better now?"

Maka nodded quietly, her nose burying in his chest. She closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of his thumb softly caressing the skin of her shoulder, encouraging him with a soft sigh as Jason made a ruckus on TV. She hadn't felt this relaxed in such a long time; not since she was lived with her mama when she was a young girl. She opened her eyes and wondered why Soul felt like home to her, wondered why she wanted to call him_ home _when even her mother laughed herself silly at the thought of ever making homes out of people. That was why she travelled, that was why she did not have a home to go back to. Homes were dangerous—_stagnation_ was dangerous.

People were not reliable, she had told her, _especially_ men.

But Soul didn't feel that way and Maka wondered if this was how love blind-sighted even the most prepared of people.

If it was, it was no wonder they sought it long after love had faded.

* * *

He admitted it was not the smartest decision he could have made. He should have reminded himself to alert Wes that he was going to be home late, should have _at least_ told Blair some thin excuse that would ensure he did not receive any rude wake up calls like this one.

He didn't think that movie marathons would become a thing between him and Maka.

The first time they did it, he had been convinced it was a one-time thing; that it was Maka's own way of coping with the situation regarding the little girl Angela. He had come prepared that time: loaded up with ice-cream and chocolate and chips—enough comfort food to last them the night. He had returned home late morning, stumbling into his bed at around ten and sleeping until evening, when Blair peeked into his apartment and dragged him over to hers for dinner.

He ate dinner with Wes and his family every day because they _were _family and Blair had taken an affinity to cooking, often wanting an outside (realistic) opinion like his. She liked to experiment and most times the end result was worth it, so Soul did not mind in the least. It also meant a free meal for him.

But after that night with Maka, things had begun to _change._ Soul would spend progressively more time with the sassy elementary school teacher outside of the classroom, more time watching movies or television with her on the weekends. Things began to get sketchy when he would spend Friday _and_ Saturday at her apartment, waking up in a tangle of limbs on her couch with her slumbering on his chest. He would yawn widely, nudge her off him so he could take a leak, and then make his way over to her kitchen for a bowl of cereal to start the day. She would wake up soon after, lost with her hair sticking up on the back. He had done this so much he could tell anyone who asked her morning routine: she would stifle a yawn, crack her back, and then shuffle to the bathroom for a quick shower. She would come out looking refreshed and new, and tease him for his bedraggled look as he finished his second bowl of cereal.

But watching her stretch her arms over her head and smile at him in a way that made him feel so absolutely _content _he couldn't begin to describe it, it made him never want to go back to his old lifestyle. The feeling of _home_ he had forgotten had finally returned, warmer than ever, and returning to his apartment made him squirm—because he no longer had to pound on the bathroom door for Maka to hurry up, didn't have to set out two plates for food or shout over his shoulder for Maka to eat her share before he did it for her. He didn't have to drag himself up to pick up his shoes, didn't have to fold his jacket properly and place it on the vanity. It was silent, there was no one who set the rules but him, and he found the silence intimating rather than comforting.

But in spending more time with her, to the point where it was _okay _to pull her into his arms and let her recline on his chest, he had neglected his family—his _real_ family.

Which was why this phone call should not have come as much of a surprise as it actually did.

"Wes? What the hell—it's _five in the morning!_" Soul rasped, rubbing the sand out of his eyes. He leaned forward a bit, squinting in the dark to see the outline of Maka's head on his chest. He let his head fall back on the comfy plethora of pillows Maka had set out for him so the arm rest didn't hurt him.

"_Exactly, it's five in the morning—where are you, Soul? You haven't been home for the past three days! Blair's gone to check!"_

"It's Monday?" Soul asked, surprised. He had never slept at Maka's until Monday morning. He would need to get up fast; he had work in a few hours.

"_Where __**are**__ you, Soul? It's not like you to not come home. We're worried," _Wes told him solemnly.

Soul sighed. "I'm fine! Seriously, I'm fine. I just lost track of time." Wes always did this. He was more than old enough to take care of himself yet he was still treated as if he could barely eat with a spoon. "Wes, I don't _have_ to tell you where I am every single moment—!"

"_You are an adult, but we're your family, and you owe us at least an alert that you might not be home for the weekend! Being an adult doesn't mean you're safe from everything, anything can happen, and if you suddenly disappear with no word as to where you could be, what are we supposed to think?"_

"If you guys called the _cops_..." Soul growled out warningly, more awake now. He lowered his voice when Maka shifted and exhaled a soft sigh against his collarbone. Wes assured they did not; but they may, next time. "Wes. I'm _fine_. I'm...at a friend's place, chill out."

"_Who? Black Star?"_

"I thought you said all I needed to do was give you a heads up," Soul complained. He scowled when Wes insisted he did, but he was curious himself. He had never done this before, who could have actually managed to drag his little brother out of his home for a whole weekend?

"_Not Black Star?"_

"No."

"_...Are you at a girls place?"_

"Uh….no?"

"_What?" _Wes gasped. His brother was a nosy bastard, Soul couldn't help but to think. Blair had only made him worse over the years. "_Since when do you date, I thought you swore off it after Claire?"_

"I never said that, I said I'd take a _break_!" Soul bristled. Claire had been the girl he had been seeing in France and Wes had been disappointed to find it had not worked out between them. Wes was only too eager to have his little brother settle down so they could share pregnancy horror stories, Soul thought sourly. "And I'm not dating her! I mean, I haven't asked her," Soul lowered his voice to a mumble, feeling his cheeks heat up at the thought. They hadn't spoken about it at all, actually; it had just become second-nature to cuddle as they watched movies. It had to be a good sign, though, he was positive Maka didn't let just _anyone_ cuddle her.

"_Who is she?"_

Soul flicked his eyes to the top of Maka's head. He pressed his hand against her back softly, feeling her even breaths. After a second of ensuring she was asleep, he said, "Someone."

"_Do I know her?"_

Soul grunted in return.

"_...If it's who I think it is, __**no**__."_

"No? What do you mean _no_—you can't tell me who I can and can't date!" He scowled. Was he serious? Was Wes seriously going to dictate who his _twenty six year old brother _was going to date? That was levels of uncool!

"_She is MY __**SON'S**__ TEACHER, Soul, and if you screw up his education because you couldn't keep it in your pants—!"_

"Lower your goddamn voice, you'll wake her _up!_" he whispered, sending a queasy look down at Maka.

"_What, do you have me on speaker?"_

"No!"

"_Do you—oh, god, Soul, no. __**No**__, don't tell me you two already—!"_

"_No!_" He hissed, hitting his head back on the pillows in frustration while Wes blew out a breath of relief. "I'm not having this conversation with you, hang up! I have to get up to go to work! Thanks for the call, but that's all you're getting from me!"

"_Blair told me you two went to high school together!"_

"Hang UP!"

"_You hold off until my son passes this grade, do you hear me, Soul? You're notorious for dating many girls—!"_

"You're such a liar! Quit projecting your regrets onto me," he sneered, sighing when he heard Wes warn him sharply about watching his tongue. It was true, though: Wes usually said that to mock him since Soul always spent his time in his room listening to music instead of 'being a high schooler', as Wes called it. "Do I have to remind you that you were known as a ladies man around the block before you settled down with Blair? Not to mention all the times I had to _cover_ for you or else dad would have your dick in a box—!"

"_Be quiet, I get it! We don't speak of that, Blair gets mad!"_ Wes hastily said.

"She's no better, what's the big deal?" He rolled his eyes. "Perfect match, if you ask me."

"_Soul. I'm serious."_

"Me, too."

"_Soul."_

"I have to go to work."

"_I'm just concerned BUT IS IT TRUE THAT YOU LIKED HER IN HIGH—!"_

Soul hung up, letting his head knock back on the pillows. His arm hung over the edge of the couch and he let his phone thump on the floor after a second. He tried not to think of the hell Wes would give him when he arrived. Wes wasn't usually so loud; this must have been a big thing for him. Any louder and he was sure Maka would have woken up. It surprised him that she hadn't; she was usually a light sleeper...

He nudged her arm, mumbling, "Quit faking. I know you're awake."

Maka finally shifted, peering up at him: _wide awake_. He raised his eyes up to the ceiling in silent remorse; how much had she heard was the question now. Leave it to Wes to ruin things, leave it to Wes to choose the wrong day to call. He had work in an hour and he was nowhere near ready. He closed his eyes. Today was shaping out to be a bad day.

"I forgot to wake you up last night. I'm sorry," Maka told him softly, pushing off his chest. He missed her weight but he ignored it to grunt out an _it's fine. "_When do you have to go to work?"

"About an hour," he opened his eyes. "I have to get up now or else I'll be late." He sat up as well, letting her shimmy off him before he swung his legs over the couch, yawning loudly into his hands and rubbing his face out afterward. Maka remained quiet and he knew where this was going without needing to look at her. "...You heard all that," he hedged, deciding he might as well broach the subject before her big brain could think too deep into it.

"Mhm."

"Wes is nosy," he told her with a sigh. "He likes to know everything that's going on in my life. _He_ was the one who brought me back from France," he looked at the television when he said this, not her eyes. "He said it was enough and I needed to stop throwing fits whenever my mom and dad pissed me off."

"What _did_ your parents do to make you so angry you had to leave the country?"

Soul shrugged.

He looked beside him quickly and slouched more when he found her sitting so close to him, their thighs touched. She was looking at him—staring at him. Soul groaned silently and released the breath he had been holding, mumbling out:

"...They wanted me to get into the music industry instead of going to college. They wanted me to do what _they_ wanted, which was to go around playing the piano to whoever paid me high enough because Wes got bored of the fame. According to my parents, I was decent enough to become a big name in the industry. But I didn't want to, so they got mad, and said they'd stop paying my tuition if I did. I went along with it for a while before I dropped out. I didn't want to hate the only thing I actually loved so…I only managed to get a minor in music, never finished my major since I couldn't pay for the next semester," he admitted with downcast eyes. "I moved to France with the intention of starting over but...Wes convinced me to come back and promised not to tell my parents about it."

"So they don't know you're in the U.S.?"

"As far as I know, no. If they did, they would've contacted me already, probably to harass me into going back to playing the piano," he sneered. "I didn't get to finish my major, but even without it, I managed to get the job I wanted to start with."

"You...work at a record company, right?"

Soul nodded.

"You said according to your parents, you're decent at playing the piano," Maka began, her brows creasing when his shoulders tensed. She had caught that look of scorn on his face when said those words. He didn't believe a single thing they said. "Don't you think you're good?"

"...No," he uttered.

"Why not?"

He didn't answer. He sat back on the couch and, when Maka asked again, he did not budge. Not this time, she realized quietly. After a second, Maka slid her hand over to his, her fingers brushing his knuckle. He flashed his eyes to her and she grabbed his hand before she could chicken out, face hot. If she took her hand back, it would've only been more awkward, she told herself. She hoped her courage hadn't been for naught.

"I haven't heard you play, but I know that if you're as passionate about music as you were in high school, then your music must be _amazing_," she smiled sweetly. He stared at her and she read the incredulity in his eyes.

"You've _never_ heard me play—actually, you didn't even know I could play an instrument until now. How can you say that?"

"I just know," she told him simply, squeezing his hand. He squeezed back and her smile widened. "And as long as you're happy, I don't think it's a bad thing that you didn't finish your major," Maka said reassuringly. Soul's shoulders visibly relaxed; he had been afraid she would look down on him for that, Maka having been the type to take school very seriously. He had forgotten just how kindhearted she really was. "Besides, you can always go back to school! There's no age-limit for college!" She cheerfully told him, making him roll his eyes.

Kindhearted was perhaps not the right word—more like laughingly optimistic.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Not interested anymore," Soul deadpanned. He gave her hand one last thankful squeeze before he stood up. He cracked his back and looked around for his shoes. "I'm gonna' be late if I don't go now. You know where my shoes are?"

"Behind the couch."

"Eh? I didn't leave them there last night…"

"I moved them, you left them by the table," Maka answered.

He peered over the couch and picked them up without another word, pulling them on and then reaching for his jacket, which was thrown over the top of the couch. This time she'd let him leave it there, but he's sure next time she'd insist he fold it and put in her room. She didn't tolerate messiness like he did, but it wasn't a bad thing.

"I'll see you later, I think Wes is gonna' pick up Gil today. If he does, just ignore him if he starts to pry. You don't have to answer anything," he told her, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Maka nodded and shifted her eyes down. His eyes narrowed slightly; she was usually more talkative than this. "Something up, Maka?"

She shook her head. "No, just thinking."

"Uh oh."

When that didn't get a reaction, he paused and looked at her. "Maka?"

Maka dug her toes into the carpet and when she stole a glance at him, finding him looking back, she darted her eyes back to her feet. When she heard him sigh and start to zip up his jacket, Maka took a breath and summoned the most courage she could.

"Are you really interested in me?" She blurted and he stilled. He looked at her cautiously, his worst fears realized. She _had_ heard that; that meant she had heard the rest, too. "E-enough to...begin seeing me seriously? Did you mean that?"

Soul rubbed the back of his neck out of nervous habit, dropping his eyes to the carpet. "Uh. Yeah," he croaked, clearing his throat. This was the worst; he could not even look at her. Soul focused on his jacket's buckle. "I was gonna' ask you soon, I didn't want you to find out this way."

"Well, next time you should remember not to talk on the phone when I have my _ear_ on your chest," she cheeked and he looked up to find her smiling radiantly at him, making his heart pick up with what it meant. He immediately felt more awake. "You have a really deep voice, the instant you spoke I woke up!"

"I'll keep that in mind next time," he dryly said. "Uh...so…"

Maka looked at him curiously and he sighed heavily, shifting his weight to his other foot. Maka made him feel so under-prepared for everything; only she could have that effect on him, he decided fondly.

"Would you like to go on an actual date with me?" He asked her, holding her eyes as he did. He was glad he did, too, for her saw her lips widen into a bright smile that made his entire self feel lighter than a feather. Asking her anything had been so hard before, yet now everything felt easier.

"I'd love to, Soul," she laughed and he grinned.

"Cool. How about this Friday we go to dinner instead of having a movie marathon?" Soul suggested.

Maka thought about it and then looked up, her eyes bright. "Only if we can have the movie marathon on Saturday!"

Soul smirked. "You got it."

"Okay, then! Friday! At six?" She asked, standing up. Her hair was a mess yet and he was sure he had drooled on his shirt but it was the best day either could have asked for. "Or later?"

Soul was pushing his hair back with a headband and scowling at the drool stains on his shirt, she was making her way to the bathroom to get ready for school and trying to flatten her hair.

"Eight. I got a place in mind and it's better to go at night," Soul hollered, finding his keys on the dining room table. "I'll pick you up, wear something nice!" He smirked when she asked _where_, her voice doing little to hide her excitement. "It's a surprise. Be patient, jeez," he chuckled when she whined that she might as well know; it wasn't like they were going to hold off seeing each other for the entire week. Soul usually dropped by even if Gil was picked up by his father nowadays. "I'll see you later, I'm running late!"

"Okay! Bye, Soul! Be careful driving!"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't overwork yourself, you dork!" He grinned when he heard her yelp and shut the door behind him, a grin plastered all over his face. Perhaps Wes hadn't messed things up as much as he thought he had—he might have just made the best thing that could have ever happened to him _happen_.

"I _do_ got this," Soul smirked to himself as he dashed down to his car and started his day.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Maka pounced on his back, eying his phone. He exited the web page quickly, but not quickly enough: she still caught the name of the restaurant. Their first date a month ago had been absolutely nerve-wracking for Maka. The date had dwelt in the back of her mind for the entire week and she was guilty of being excited about it, something she hadn't felt in a long time. She had actually gone out of her way to buy a new dress, nothing too flashy or plain—she had been on a mission to find the perfect dress for her night-out with Soul.

After entering many stores and coming out empty-handed, she had eventually found it: a belted light pink tube dress with a sweetheart neckline that didn't completely annoy her. She was usually against such dresses because they were too tight and bold, but when the employee had recommended the dress to her, complimenting her slim figure, Maka had been very happy to see that the dress didn't make her look like a total stick—and the neckline didn't over-emphasis her small bust, either! It was snug around her midsection, but flowed out comfortably from there. It fit her just right and Maka had bought it with hopes that she would look as good as she thought she did. She was extremely glad later: the sight of Soul gaping for words at the sight of her and ending up with a lame, "w-we better get going or else we'll miss our reservation" was always a memory to warm her heart with.

"Nothing! Get off, you're heavy," he complained, looking up at her when she gave him a dark look.

"You're picking out the restaurant! I _saw_ it! I thought we decided that _I_ would pick this time!"

"You are!"

"Then why are you looking for restaurants?" she grumbled. He shifted and she slid to the side. He caught her with the back of his arm, quickly grabbing her so she didn't hit the couch. Maka crawled on her knees and sat back on her thighs as she waited for his reply.

"It's so when your restaurant flops, we can fall back on mine," he cheeked and she smacked his shoulder.

"_My_ choice is going to be way better than yours! Just wait!"

"Oh, really? I took you to the best restaurant in town on our first date, you said so when we arrived," he smirked and she puffed her cheeks, miffed that he remembered such a detail. He had definitely surprised her, never having expected him to take her to such a lavish place. But, then again, Soul lived by the motto go big or go home. Or so he said, Maka thought with a sly grin. He was a lot more reserved than he liked to think.

"_Mine_ is better because I chose it," she stuffed his face with a pillow when he snorted. "But why are you really looking for restaurants? You can't be planning for next time, you don't think that far ahead," she smarted and he kicked her, something she giggled at because he missed and hit his foot on the edge of her coffee table instead.

"I wanted to go for lunch tomorrow," he muffled out, pulling the pillow off his face. "It's nothing fancy, I was thinking the bistro a few blocks down from the school."

"Le petit bistro?" she asked with a cheeky smile he grinned at, reaching over to pull her onto his lap. She wrapped her arm around his neck once she was settled with a happy hum. He had been hesitant to initiate any sort of physical contact the day after their date, during their postponed movie marathon. Maka thought it sweet at first, then spent half the night trying to cuddle without being too obvious—something she failed in, for he eventually caved with the mumbled words of _bossy _and _stubborn _against her hair.

"It's a holiday tomorrow, you're off."

"Are _you_ off? I thought you had some things to do at the studio," Maka wondered. She smiled a little at his grimace—he hadn't been very happy with his work the past few days, something Maka made better by stroking his hair. She hadn't taken him for the type to like to be petted, but certainly he had proved her wrong on many things she first thought him as.

"I get off at noon, which is why I want to go eat."

Maka gave him a measured look and then said, "I think we should go eat burgers." She laughed at his skeptical look. "Don't tell me you hate them now! You loved them during high school! You always went out with your friends after school to eat!"

"I loved a lot of things in high school and about ninety percent of them were really, _really_ dumb," he deadpanned.

"But it was all so _cool_," she mocked. "Is that why you went out to eat burgers, too, because you looked so _cool_ eating with your gang of friends, causing a mess?"

"Don't mock me, it _was_ cool back then—stop laughing," he scowled, unable to help a snort because even _he_ thought it was ridiculous. He had so many ridiculous notions; he was surprised he was still considered cool nowadays.

"No, really, we should just go eat burgers. I _want_ a burger," she added when he looked like he was going to object. They held each other's eyes for a second before Soul caved with a sigh of _fine, whatever, but don't complain when you hate it_. Maka squeezed him to her in happiness, her arms tight around his neck, and had the thought that this was what people desperately sought—this affection, because although she could honestly say she did not love Soul, she could _come to love him, _and that was a huge deal for had seen many fall because of love and, although she didn't like thinking negatively, she knew that if things ended badly with Soul she would be very seriously _hurt_. They hadn't even been dating a month and already she felt so attached to him, something that had taken her months with previous partners—and they hadn't half the trust she had in Soul.

It was a gamble, she thought as she dozed comfortably against his shoulder, and she was never one to gamble.

But blowing into her fist and letting the dice roll had never been so tempting before.

He did take her to a burger place after all.

It was close to where she lived and he told her that he often visited the place because he particularly liked how they grilled their burgers. Although Maka had flatly told him it was an overrated fast food place, no different than any of its competitors, Soul had shrugged it off and told her the cooks here did a decent job for a _generic burger._

"Don't knock it 'til you try it, Maka."

"I'm not, I'm just saying that they're all the same," Maka said, standing in line with Soul. She was reading the menu, deciding on two combos as he stood behind her and yawned into his hand. "Is number two any good?"

"I don't like thousand island sauce," he shrugged. "They put a lot on it and it looks gross."

"Now you know how I feel about fish."

"Don't hate on fish, either, it's not their fault you can't see how good it is."

"_Me?_" Maka gave him a raised brow. "Fish is gross! And the smell sticks on you after you eat it, it's impossible to get rid of! When you ate that salmon plate the second time you took me out? I almost kicked you off the couch, you_ reeked!_"

"It wasn't that bad!"

"If you didn't sleep with your mouth open, maybe," she reminded, smiling brightly at the cashier who looked between them wryly. Soul glared daggers at her back as she ordered for both of them. After a second, Soul smirked and jabbed a finger into Maka's side, earning himself a squeak and a warning growl as they stepped out of line to await their orders.

"Do that again and you won't sleep on the couch!"

"Oh, the couch, because that's _such _a tragedy," Soul rolled his eyes, their shoulders bumping.

Maka stuck her nose up in the air. "_Fine. _I was even thinking about letting you use the bed, but since you're being a nuisance, I guess you'll just have to go home and sleep _all alone_ in your huuuge condo," she mocked and squeaked when he wrapped his arms around her waist, squishing her to him as he grinned against her ear:

"You wouldn't be mocking my apartment if you saw it," he watched her grip his hands with both of her own, looking up at him with a racy edge to her grin.

"I'd like to be _acquainted_ with your couch," she suggested, her fingers tightening over his wrist, pushing it a little higher up her stomach until it bumped with the swell of her breasts. They hadn't done much yet, have not kissed aside from the one she planted sweetly on his cheek after their first date, but it was quite excruciating to wake up in the middle of the night and find him lying under her so temptingly, the moonlight cutting his face in a way that made her loins burn.

Soul caught on quick, to her pleasure, grinning against her temple as he flattened his palm on her side, just barely brushing the underside of her breasts. He would have teased her, would have perhaps managed a grope that would have ignited everything, left them in a desperate rush to reach the apartment so he could take care of that yearning he could see in her eyes, had the very person who caused his girlfriend's (if he were so bold as to call her that now) misery in high school not appeared behind him.

"Soul, man, is that you?"

"Black Star?" Maka choked, mood destroyed. Soul dropped his arms from around her and turned, eyes widening when he saw that it really _was_ Black Star. He was in jeans and a blue jersey, his favorite basketball team spelled out in white block letters. His hair was as vivid blue as he remembered it to be, always being the one to dye it such a color when it began to fade. It was spikier this time, less in the shape of a star and more wild as was his nature.

"Hey, Black Star!" Soul high fived him, bumping his fist right after. He noticed Maka refused to turn around and he sighed, knowing this would either end badly or the gods would be on his side and Black Star wouldn't make a total ass of himself. "What's up? I thought you were in Japan?"

"I came back like two months ago. I opening up another dojo here and left the other one to my girl's dad," Black Star told him with a toothy grin.

"You still with Tsubaki?"

"Yep! Engaged, actually," he boasted.

"Huh. Cool. You actually tied yourself down? I thought you said you'd never get married, that it was for chumps," Soul commented, slipping his hands in his pockets. Maka left his side to go pick up their orders. Soul only stifled a sigh and turned his sights back to Black Star. He noticed his friend was looking between them curiously. He must have seen him embracing her from behind. Black Star was dense, but not that dense.

"Tsubaki's my biggest fan," Black Star laughed loudly. "And I'm hers, so it works out. So, who's that girl? You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend?"

"She's," Soul paused. There was no use hiding it; the idiot would figure it out soon enough and it was better to come clean than to lie and then face his tantrums. "Don't your recognize her? We went to high school with her."

"Nope! Was she one of my fans? Coz I'm a taken man now, so sorry to have to tell her she's missing out on me!"

Soul rolled his eyes and before he could _sarcastically _tell him that she was actually one of his hugest fans and would like to personally beat him to a pulp, Maka interjected:

"Are you _really_ that stupid? Don't you remember me, Black Star?"

Soul winced when Black Star frowned, turning to face one slit-eyed Maka Albarn. His friend analyzed her from head to toe, lingering on her face for a moment, before he grinned goofily and held his hands up.

"Nope! Haven't seen you in my life!"

"Are you serious," Soul muttered and had been about to tell him who she was when Maka held a hand up at him, gave him a vicious glare to keep quiet. She shoved their plate of meals into Soul's hands and reached up to part her loose hair in half. She gripped them in pig tails and raised her brows at Black Star, whose eyes slowly widened until he was slack jawed and in awe.

"Holy shit, _Maka!_ Is that you? When did you get hot?"

"I_ grew up, _you idiot!"

Black Star laughed boisterously, slapping Soul on the back while he stared at Maka nervously. She did _not_ look happy. At all. "Hahaha! Way to go, Soul! She's not as hot as my Tsubaki, but she's okay. Who knew that pigtails had it in her?" He laughed harder while Maka's ire slowly rose. "But seriously I didn't think you liked nerds, she's still a nerd, right?"

"If by nerd you mean she actually has a _brain_, then yes," Soul deadpanned.

"Pfft, does she still color-code her books?"

"She's organized, yeah."

"Man, she must bore you with her trivia, huh? She always did it to everyone, tellin' 'em all these facts whenever she could!"

Soul looked back at Maka and, found her eyes downcast. He could read the hurt she was trying to disguise and he felt anger—_fury_, actually, as Black Star continued his insulting barrage. Was he really blind to the hurt on her face, didn't he know that those things _hurt her_, didn't he have any respect for the fact that Soul _was _with her and _not_ for the fact that she was 'hot' now? Soul was suddenly struck with how she must have felt when they were in high school and felt his guilt weigh in his chest like an anchor. He was very uncool when he was younger, very—but not anymore.

"Black Star, shut up," Soul cut him off abruptly. He locked eyes with him, tone even, "If you say _one more thing_ about my girlfriend, I'm gonna' break your face. This isn't coo, dude."

They held each other's eyes for a moment, a moment that Soul could feel building because he knew Black Star very well. He had been friends with him for a long time and Black Star did not take such threats idly, even in jest. But Soul had kept quiet in high school when Black Star mocked Maka, had gone along with his tasteless jokes, and it had gotten him absolutely nowhere with Maka except on her black list. But now that he had her, after so much struggle to undo the things he had done when he was a naïve, idiotic, teenager, he was not about to ruin things just because his friend thought it _funny _to poke jabs at her.

But he surprised him: Black Star suddenly grinned, holding his hands up. "Alright, alright. My bad, I was just kidding around."

"It wasn't funny."

"I thought it was funny."

"It really wasn't," he shortly said, looking back at Maka, who stared at him with wide eyes. It made his face hot, something he cursed at because he was sure that after such a dangerous encounter with a guy who once beat a whole gang single-handedly, blushing because he had called her his _girlfriend _and they hadn't established anything would surely ruin his little show. "Uh, I got to go eat , coz we have to go somewhere after this. So, it was cool seeing you again, maybe we can hang out—!"

"Yeah! Let's go play some basketball tomorrow by the courts! Y'know, by the park? Kilik and the others are gonna' be there!" Black Star enthusiastically said, already forgetting the encounter. Soul was not surprised; he had always been one to get over things in a heartbeat. "Uh, pigtails—!"

"_Maka_," he corrected, giving him a look that told him he wasn't playing around about the unsightly nickname, either.

"...Right. _Maka_ can come, too. If she wants, whatever. Tsubaki's not gonna' be there, though," he added with a scratch at the back of his head, glancing at Maka.

"What time?"

"'Bout seven."

"Cool. I get out of work by then."

"So you going?"

"Maybe. I'll text you."

"AWESOME!" Black Star exclaimed, running over to stand in line. "You better be on my team, we'll smoke those losers!"

"Sure, whatever," he waved and grabbed Maka by her arm, guiding her away from the blue-haired man who watched them with interested eyes, hands braced behind his head. Soul knew that, sooner or later, the man would pry about him and Maka. After all, it was quite strange that he would hook up with someone Black Star believed he disliked.

"That idiot, I thought he was gonna' stay in Japan," Soul commented.

"...Thanks," Maka told him instead. "For standing up for me back there."

Soul looked up from his burger, finding Maka smiling at him. "No problem. I know, uh, how much you don't like Black Star coz of that, and I told you it was wrong of us to bully you like that."

"I thought you weren't going to stick up for me," Maka admitted, something that made his appetite crumble because he feared she still had doubts about him. "Since I still am a _nerd_, I guess."

"Maka, you're not a nerd," he sighed. At her unamused look, he corrected: "Okay, you are, but that's not a bad thing. I like it, that's part of the reason I like you," he insisted, something she looked skeptical about. "What?"

"What?"

"You don't believe me."

Maka dropped her fry and looked up at him, her eyes set. "Because he's right! Is it just because nerdy _pigtails _actually grew some curves and doesn't look like a twelve year boy anymore that you finally decided I was worth dating?"

_Honeymoon's over, _Soul thought as he put his burger back down.

"No," he said, evenly, knowing he was treading dangerous ground now. "It's because _Maka_ _Albarn_ is a kind, stupidly reckless, fierce woman and I happen to really like kind, stupidly reckless, fierce women. I have since I first met you, even _when_ you looked like a twelve year old boy," he added, something she slit her eyes at. Soul inwardly groaned; now was not a time for his sarcasm to kick in. "Look, I don't care about looks, that's shallow. That's the stupidest thing you can base someone's worth on. It's the _soul_ that matters, Maka, not the body. I didn't suddenly decide to ask you out because you look different! I asked you out because I stopped being so afraid that you'd..."

"I'd what?"

He scowled at his lap instead.

"What, Soul?" She demanded and Soul caught the way she was shaking, furious no doubt.

Before she could stand up and leave, her blurted out: "Reject me! There, I said it!"

"_Reject _you?"

"I wasn't exactly the _nicest_ person when I was a teenager," he bit out, something she frowned at.

"Soul, I didn't hate you...I just hated how you _treated_ me when we were younger. We went over this."

"Maka, I was a fucking idiot when I was a teenager. I _liked you _and I didn't do anything to try and show you I did. I alienated you even _more_," he scowled, not hungry anymore. Talking about his past mistakes had that effect. "Y'know I tried to ask you out to every single dance our school hosted?"

"What...?"

"I never got to, because either I heard you decided to go with your friends or you had someone around you or," he grimaced here, "I _chickened out _and didn't go at all."

Maka shook her head slowly. "You couldn't have... you _never_ even spoke to me! You did everything you could to get away from me!"

Maka was dense; he forgot about that. "_Why_ do you think that?"

"Because you didn't like me?"

"No, you idiot, I was _terrified_ of you, that's why I didn't talk to you," he exhaled, feeling his face go hot at her open-mouthed look.

"You were _scared_ of me but you _liked_ me?" She repeated, incredulously.

"Ugh, don't you get it? I didn't want to look like a total idiot in front of you," he confessed, feeling like a total idiot _now_. "I couldn't talk around you so avoiding you was better than looking like a dumbass. I wasn't smart like you, I've never been. I say stupid shit and I said even stupider shit when I was fifteen...and you weren't exactly _nice _back then, either," he reminded. "Especially not to idiots," he added bitterly.

"So what you mean to tell me is that you've liked me _all this time _and you didn't say anything because you were scared of me_?_" Maka slowly said, studying him for any signs of deceit. His shoulders were tense, hand crushing the table side. She could see part of his face despite him looking down, how red it had become the more he talked, how the nerve in his jaw jumped and his Adams apple bounced. She found it absolutely endearing; the thought warmed her heart and made her want to reach over and stroke his hair. "You've had a _crush_ on me for_ over nine years?_"

Soul cringed, looking away to hide his face. When she said it that way, it really _did_ sound pathetic. It had taken him all this time to muster up the courage to ask her out, although, to be fair, some of those years they had taken their own paths. But now they had merged and he was at least glad he had grown some and asked out the only girl who made his heart feel like it was going to shrivel up and swell at the same time.

"This is the truth?"

Soul nodded mutely, not looking at her.

"Soul?"

He still didn't look.

"Soul!"

He clenched his jaw tight and finally looked, meeting her eyes evenly although his face remained red. "_Yes_, it's true, alright! I thought I got over you after high school, but I see you _once _and I'm back to being fourteen again. _Shut up_," he bit out when she barked out a laugh, her hand covering her mouth to hide her delight. This was humiliating; he was tempted to walk out so he could collect the broken pieces of his pride on his own. "It's not funny…this isn't cool."

"_Soul_," she cooed, reaching over the table.

Soul's eyes widened and he jerked away, groaning pitifully when she crushed his face into her neck, laughing when he tried to push her off and choked out things like _so uncool _and _please get off, people are watching! _But she couldn't help it: here she thought Soul had taken an interest because she looked more like a girl, when in reality it was because he had finally mustered up the courage to befriend her and ask her out after all these years. It touched her because he really _did_ try so hard. How could someone lie about something like that when their face could rival tomatoes in color?

"I always thought you were cute, but also a jerk," she laughed when he made a noise between a choke and growl.

"That's _so_ not funny, Maka!"

"You're right. It's not, it's sad," she said softly, pulling away to level their faces. She forced him to look at her, her fingers stroking his warm cheeks. "You liked me for so long and I thought you hated me for so long," she murmured. He held her gaze. "We really were idiots when we were teenagers, huh?"

"Huge idiots," Soul added. "We should get a medal for it." After a second of watching her tender smile, how her eyes looked down and her lashes brushed her cheek, he said: "Black Star was just angry that you ripped his signature in half and threw it in the trashcan. That's the real reason he bullied you, it wasn't coz you were ugly or a nerd. He was just sore someone actually had the balls to do that."

Maka stared at him for a few seconds, then said, "He did all that just because I got tired of having him shove one of his autographs in my face every morning?"

"It's true that you were a nerd back then, and you still are," Soul began, knowing he had to hit on one last thing; the thing that bothered her the most, the thing he had known she cried over because he had seen tears well in her eyes when Black Star said it. He had seen her suck them back bravely too many times to be okay. "But you've _never_ been ugly, Maka. You didn't 'suddenly' become attractive, you've been attractive! You were just absorbed in your books to realize that!"

"You..." she started carefully, scrutinizing his every move, "thought I was pretty back then? Even with the uniform and pigtails?"

"_Yes_, why is that so hard to—!" and he didn't get a chance to say anything else before she crushed their lips together. Their very first, actual kiss. He would swear he heard the cashier whoop and some people clap, however, the thudding in his ears blocked out the rest.

* * *

Gil looked over his shoulder for the sixteenth time that hour, frowning again when he found his teacher gazing out of the window again. She had been doing that a lot lately and it started when his uncle dropped by the other day! Gil was certain his uncle had something to his beloved teacher because she had been staring out that window since.

In Gil's mind, his uncle had tired her out with his presence, which made sense since his uncle could be overbearing at times. That was what his father said, anyway, when he was lingering by the door frame and they didn't notice them. He did not know what 'overbearing' meant but he guessed it meant being too much of a bear and Gil sagely agreed with that: his uncles teeth could scare any right-minded adult out of their wits!

"Miss Albarn!" Gil raised his hand.

"Yes, Gil?"

"I'm done with my quiz!"

"Alright, bring it up to me," Maka smiled and took the paper when Gil ran up to her desk, peering curiously up at her as she skimmed it through and set it face-down on the table. "Is there something else you need, Gil?"

"Umm..." He twiddled his fingers, blurting out: "Is uncle Soul bothering you?"

Maka blinked, taken aback. "No. Of course not, why would you say that?"

"Because I know my uncle can be...be over-bearing and I thought he was bothering you!"

"Overbearing," Maka laughed outright, which made Gil perk up. "That's something new! Where did you hear that one, Gil?"

"My daddy," he admitted, which made Maka grin wider. "And uncle Soul is kinda' like a bear, with his teeth and stuff. I think they're really cool but mommy says that not many people have it so it scares them a lot. I thought he scared you with his teeth!"

"His teeth don't scare me," Maka told him, gently. "In fact, I like his teeth."

"You _do?"_

"Mhm. I think they're awesome and cool," she added, which made Gil brighten up. "Although that's not what overbearing means. Overbearing means… it means being really, really full of yourself and thinking you're better than everyone to the point where you bother people," she told him simply, which Gil mulled over for a second.

"I don't think uncle is overbearing. I just think he looks like a bear and it's cool!"

"I don't think he's overbearing, either," Maka smiled. "Just pretentious."

"What's that?"

"Being full of yourself," she grinned. "But not to the point where you bother people. _Too much_," she added to herself so Gil would not hear.

"Uncle's pretentious!" Gil nodded sagely.

"That's right—now go sit down and wait for your classmates to finish. We're still not done for the day, we're going to play a game next!" She said cheerfully, watching the boy hoot and run back to his desk with a giant grin on his face. She let her eyes skim over her class, raising a brow at a student who was none-too-subtly peering over to his neighbor's paper, before she went back to her thoughts.

She was tempted to open those letters Soul had sent her.

They were still in her drawer, untouched. Considering Soul was now officially her boyfriend, she figured opening the letters and seeing what he wrote to her all those weeks ago would be interesting. She did notice that the letters had gotten longer; the envelops thick because Soul had no doubt crammed the papers inside it before he sealed them. He never did take care for such details, Maka thought with a tiny smile.

Maka wondered what he could have written to her that would make her change her mind. Soul once told her he had trouble with words, but writing things down always centered him. It was why he liked to compose, because he could go back to it and edit what he wrote. He could never fear putting together the wrong things when writing compared to talking, where one slip of the tongue could ruin everything.

She stood up when she found most of the class had finished their quizzes, deciding she could read the letters later. She had some students to teach first.

* * *

"Has Gil been doing his work?" Wes asked after school, ruffling his son's hair while Maka waved goodbye at some other children.

"He's more on task nowadays," Maka told him, smiling down at Gil when he laughed and jumped up and down. "But he still likes to talk a little bit too much."

"He's always been a social butterfly," Wes chuckled. He looked up at her and his smile became a little slyer, if Maka were to describe. "How have you and Soul been getting along?"

"Good," Maka told him simply, clasping her arms behind her. "Really good, actually. We talked about a lot of things and closed a lot of things."

"Closed?"

"We weren't necessarily friendly to each other when we were younger," Maka admitted. Wes hummed, intrigued. "We solved some issues."

"So you two get along now, is it? Good, that sounds good. I haven't seen Soul around much, but the times I do he brings you up once or twice," he smiled at her.

Maka smiled back. "I hope they're not bad things."

"Trust me, they're not."

"Dad, dad! I wanna' go home, I wanna' finish my homework before mommy gets home so I can show her what I drew for her, please, let's go, _daaaaad!_" He whined, pulling on his sleeve impatiently.

"Alright, alright, we're going, let me just say goodbye to Miss Albarn!" Wes appeased, letting his boy run off while he bid goodbye to his teacher. "That must be some picture."

"We used glitter today. Gil put a lot of effort into that drawing," Maka told him with a beam. "I don't usually let the kids play with the glitter since it's a hassle to clean up. I always come home with glitter on me even days after the project," she laughed. "It gets all over the place."

"Hopefully Gil doesn't drop too much glitter in my car. I should've made Soul come," Wes laughed. "See how he handles having uncool glitter in his car!"

"With a lot of whining, probably," Maka giggled.

Wes grinned at her. "You know him so well already! Well, I should get going, before Gil comes over here to drag me away."

Maka smiled and bid him goodbye, going to usher the leftover children into the classroom until their parents arrived. She spared a glance at Wes' car and found Gil showing his father the picture he drew for his mother. Maka felt a pang in her heart at the sight and when she looked at the other children that waited for her by the front gate, that pang became a small ache. Her mother had become pregnant with her when she was eighteen, just out of high school, to Spirit, who was already two years into college at the time.

Her mother had always told her not to make such an error, warning her of the hardships that came with having children at such a young age. But Maka was twenty six, surely that was more than old enough to have at least one child? Maka shook her head and heralded her students into the classroom. She thought she got over her baby blues when she was twenty two, were they coming back now?

"I already have my hands full with these," Maka murmured to herself, smiling friendlily at one of her students who cocked their head upon hearing her. "No more kids," she told herself resolutely, marching over to her desk. She took out her laptop from the drawer she had safely locked it in and then her eyes strayed to her _other _drawer, the one she'd stuffed all of Soul's letters in.

She opened that one up and took them out, taking care to keep them in the order he'd given them to her. Once she had a neat stack – around six letters, she was surprised he had written her so many – she rubber banded them and stuffed them into her laptop bag before she could change her mind. Reading them in the classroom could be dangerous and the last thing she needed was to either rage or be touched by his letters. She expected to rage at first. Soul could be quite blunt with his words.

"Teacher! My mommy is here!"

"So is mine!"

Maka smiled and stood up to walk them out.

"Alright, alright. I'm going. Don't forget to do your homework and double-check it!"

"Yes, Miss Albarn!"

And so ended another day at Death City Elementary school.

* * *

"Wes, I seriously don't need to deal with this right now," Soul grumbled as he trudged up the staircase, holding two bags of Chinese takeout while his other held their drinks. His phone was cradled between his shoulder and cheek and he was sorely tempted to let his phone drop on the floor than to listen to his brother whine. "No, don't go my apartment—I'm not home, genius, so unless you want to just chill in there, you won't find me."

Soul stopped at the mouth of the staircase. "I already bought dinner, so I'm not gonna' go back to your place to eat. I won't finish it and then Blair'll think its gross or something and cuss me out."

The phone call ended sharply after that and Soul shoved his phone into his pocket with an irritated sigh. Wes was overreacting; did he truly think he would always eat at their place? He was a grown man; he was bound to get tied up with someone _eventually_. Wes had always pushed for him to date and when Soul finally did, he was pushing for him to come back and ignore Maka? It had nothing to do with her being his son's teacher, either. The issue ran deeper.

"Soul—oh, you bought dinner!" Maka cheerily said upon opening the door, successfully brightening up his sour mood. She helped carry the trays to the dining table while he placed their drinks right beside the trays. He watched her rummage through the bag for forks then she took out their trays of food.

"Did you get me dumplings this time?"

"Yeah, but no spicy chicken."

"That's fine. I was getting tired of it."

"I got spicy chicken, though," he grinned. "_And_ fried shrimp!"

"That's possibly the only seafood I would eat, and that's only because it tastes like chicken."

"What? Fried shrimp does _not_ taste like chicken!"

"Yes, it does," Maka sat down across from Soul. At his look of disbelief, she huffed: "It does to _me!"_

"You've got something seriously wrong with your pallet, its way off."

"_Pallet?_" Maka teased, laughing when he looked up from under his bangs. She could see the beginnings of a grin at the corner of his lips. "I didn't know you watched cooking shows, Soul!"

"What makes you think I watch cooking shows? Maybe I actually learned it from somewhere that's _not_ the TV."

"Right, and I learned how to teach children from watching Sesame Street."

"Maybe you did! I don't know, I don't judge you either way!" He yelped when she threw a grain of rice at him.

"I actually went to school for this! Although, once...I _did_ teach this kid how to multiply by six using the dracula voice."

"He learned! He was a big Sesame Street fan."

"Do it, do it right now."

Maka flushed and Soul swore if she had her hair up in pigtails, they'd fly right up with her embarrassment as well. "N-no! I only did that for him because he had such a hard time memorizing it!"

"C'mon, Maka, I promise not to laugh," Soul coaxed. "Do the voice!"

"No!"

"I swear I won't tell anyone, just do it..." He grinned at her when she stared at him, apprehensively. "I promise not to tell anyone," he repeated and grinned widely when she sighed in resignation, her cheeks still an endearing shade of pink.

"I swear, if you tell _anyone_, I will kick you out and you'll _never_ visit me again," she told him, half-serious. Soul gave her a thumbs up and put his fork down, knowing this would probably make him piss himself laughing.

She took a breath. "It is I, de Count! They call me de count becau—shut up!" Maka groaned when Soul burst out laughing. "…because I like to count things! We shall—oh my god, Soul, if you don't shut up I'm going to stop!"

"Okay," he snickered, but bit his tongue when she did the most hilarious reenactment of the Count, complete with the laugh and hand movements. Soul swore he nearly fell off his chair in laughter because her voice wasn't even deep—it was just ridiculously adorable; he thought he was higher pitched than usual.

"_Nailed it_," he gasped, dodging a few packets of soy sauce in the process.

The evening winded down after that and Soul found himself back on her couch. Maka yawned into her hand and slumped against Soul, fitting under his arm comfortably. She spread her legs over the remaining length of the couch and Soul stroked his thumb over her shoulder, allowing his eyes to roam around her apartment idly as Maka indulged in her favorite television drama. He still had a problem to deal with and it began with Wes and ended with Blair.

He had been spending more time with Maka than Wes and his family and Blair was starting to grow agitated. She still set out an extra plate for him during dinner, which only upset Gil because he sometimes would not eat until Soul came. The times he never did, Wes had to convince him to eat. Blair also wanted some input on her new dishes and Soul had always had a good nose and taste for food. She trusted his opinion, which he could not give since he ate with Maka nowadays and when he did return in time for their dinner, he was not hungry anymore. The thought of causing so much chaos in his brothers household made Soul feel guilty; he didn't think his absence would affect them so much, especially not Gil.

He could ask Maka if she could spend some time over at his place but, if he were honest with himself, he did not think that his home would feel anymore homey even _with_ Maka's presence. Blair had gone out to buy him more furniture not too long ago, but it still held a detached air. No matter what he did, he could not give it a homier feel. He supposed it felt like an oversized bedroom sometimes, when his negligence got the better of him and he made a mess.

Blair sometimes cleaned it up for him, although not without some hissing and whining involved, which never failed to make him help her clean up—usually ending with her filing her nails and firing off orders as he cleaned up his own mess and made his apartment presentable again.

"What're you thinking about so hard?" Maka sleepily asked.

Soul looked down to find drowsy green eyes looking back. He smirked and tugged on her hair gently, his arm tightening around her neck. She puffed her cheeks out, her eyes shut as her face screwed up. He grinned and leaned down to press his forehead against her temple, not letting her wiggle out of his hold. "You're tired today. What'd those brats do, make you chase them around the classroom?"

"I stayed up trying to get my printer to work so I could print out their class assignments," Maka yawned, pressing her nose against his cheek instead. She sank into his embrace, her fingers clutching his shirt loosely. "Since I couldn't do it at school because _someone _was starving," she sent him a pointed look.

"I'm not sorry, if that's what you mean."

"But what were you thinking about? You were staring at the wall pretty intensely," she asked curiously, wiggling so she could give him her attention more comfortably. "Soul?"

He hesitated before he said, slowly, "Wes and Blair have been bugging me a lot about having dinner with them."

"Oh. Well, take a day to have dinner with them then. I can eat by myself."

"I wish it were that simple," Soul grumbled. She cocked her head, waiting for him to elaborate. "Before I started to come over here, Blair would always invite me for dinner. It just became a habit to eat with them. Blair likes to cook something new every day and Wes pretty much eats anything, so she likes my opinion."

"You don't eat everything, too?"

Soul sent a mock-glare at a giggling Maka. "Surprisingly, Maka, I don't. So Blair likes to have me over to taste her food and give her feedback. But Wes told me that Gil waits for me to come to dinner. Wes has to convince the kid to eat or else he won't, and I know it's because he wants to eat with me like before," he sinks in his seat after the admission, looking down at the coffee table broodingly. "But I still wanna' come over here to eat with you."

Maka thought about it for a second and then brightened, sitting up so she could face him properly. "We can just go eat dinner with them every night!"

"What?"

"Well, since you want to eat with me, too, I can go with you. If that's okay," she added, hesitantly.

"No, that's fine, it's just do you _really_ wanna' go eat with them every night?" He asked, brow arched. "Blair's gonna' want you to stay afterward. She's a pain like that. I usually stayed coz of Gil, at least until his bedtime."

"I don't mind staying for a bit," Maka told him honestly.

"That sounds great and all, but we also have another problem."

"What's that?"

"Gil. How's the kid gonna' take having his _teacher_ over for dinner? And leaving with his uncle?" He hinted, which made Maka look down in conflict.

"I know!" She brightened. "We can tell him I'm teaching you how to multiply!"

"Fuck that, I don't need the kid to think I'm a _moron!_" he growled. Maka laughed. "I guess we can tell him that you live close by and you're good friends with us. Kid's smart, and he likes you so he'll probably be thrilled to have you there."

"But you have a point," Maka sat back, curling her legs under her. She wedged her palms between her thighs as she spoke, "I'm his teacher. I have to keep a certain sense of professionalism, and going to dinner with you at his home will breach that. I'd feel more comfortable once he moved onto the next grade level and I wasn't his teacher for a while. I don't need him to cause a ruckus in the classroom."

"This wouldn't be an issue if he didn't have a crush on you," Soul deadpanned.

"He _doesn't_ have a crush on me!"

"He does, I would know," he sent her a knowing look she pinked at. "You're hard not to like," he added and smirked when he saw her face heat up even more. He reached over and pulled her towards him, muffling her squeak for him to _stop, we're going to fall_ with his lips, pushing her over until she fell on her back on the couch. He moved over her, kissing her deeply, one hand tangling their fingers together while the other supported his weight.

They stayed like that for a while, their lips moving against each other's, heavy breathing accompanied by her girlish giggles and his chuckles. Whispers caressed each other's lips, and Soul liked to watch how her eyelashes brushed against her cheek with every blink. Maka liked to let her lips lightly graze his chin whenever he spoke, and drag her lips against his smooth cheek. She combed her fingers through his hair, bringing his head down so she could slide her mouth against his again, arms coming to lock around his neck, her leg wrapping around one of his so his body was completely pressed against her own.

They always tip-toed around the edge during nights like this, always got a little too close. Tonight, Soul let his hands grope down her sides, let one of his hands reach up to tease the swell of her breast. Tonight, she arched a little more against him and moaned softly in his mouth when his fingers danced too close to her to breast. She locked their hips together, undulated her body in a way that made him groan and push back, a shiver of pleasure that made both groan into each other's mouths.

They danced around the edge but never passed it, not yet, so it was not long before they pulled away and Maka loosened her hold on him. She closed her eyes as he buried his face in her neck and whispered things that made her face feel like it would remain red for lifetimes to come. She could feel his affection as if it were a tangible thing, and she found herself yearning for more as she kissed his cheek noisily and earned a humored hum.

"Go eat with them this week until we work something out," Maka said, shifting on her side so she could cuddle against his chest.

"Start next week," Soul yawned.

"Tomorrow."

"I can't keep track like that."

"Don't worry, I'll keep track for you," Maka gave him a stern look he groaned at. "You're going tomorrow. I'm locking the door, so don't even bother coming over here."

"That's just mean."

"I'll open it after a week," she told him cheekily, squealing when he squeezed her to his chest and planted a kiss on her neck, her delighted peals of laughter warming his heart with every second as he convinced her to let him eat at her place one more night.

* * *

"Uncle, look! Look what I made in Miss Maka's class, she let me use the glitter! Unc—LOOOKKKKK!"

Wes fumbled with something in the bedroom. "Soul, have you seen the newspaper? I can't find it...is it by the coffee table?"

"Nyaaa~! You'll love what I made tonight, Soul-y! It's one of your favorites!" Blair sang excitedly.

"Uncle, are you _loookingggg?_"

"Newspaper, Soul, have you seen it?"

"NYAA! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT WITH A DARK SEAR, SOULY~!

Soul was sitting on the couch with Gil, face blank. He heard Blair as if she were shouting in his ear. Blair had a loud voice; Soul never quite understood how Wes could deal with it. Maka had a mean yell, sure, but she was soft-spoken most of the time. It was when her voice attained a steely quality that Soul needed to take cover. When her voice was pitched, cheery, that was the best time to approach her with whatever he had in mind. But Blair was always loud: he had no idea how his brother differentiated her pitches.

"S'here, Wes! _Wes!"_ Soul shouted, raising the rolled-up newspaper for his brother. Wes plucked his from his hand and rounded the couch to sit across from his brother, his child sitting between them and doodling something in his sketchbook.

"Uncleeee!"

"I'm looking, it looks great. You should color it more," he said absently but Gil bought it, going for his crayons. "What's Blair cooking tonight?" Soul asked his brother, arms crossed behind his neck. He usually had free-reign of the TV when he came over and tonight he was watching a basketball game.

"I'm not sure. But she's been quite fixated with steaks, so I have high hopes it's a New York style steak," Wes answered, flipping the page in his newspaper. "That's one of your favorites, isn't it?"

"Steak's always good. But that sounds too basic for all the racket she's making in there," Soul thumbed behind him.

Wes winced when he heard pots clatter and Blair hiss. "Yeah, I know. I'm hoping she won't break another plate tonight. I think I've wasted over fifty dollars in plates in the last three months. That's more than anyone should waste on _plates._"

Soul snorted. "Just wait until she decides her sole purpose in life is cooking. You'll be blowing off cash on the best cooking ware every week."

"Don't say that."

"Just being honest."

Wes mouthed a swear—he was pretty sure it was _fuck—_and Soul smirked. Wes would never swear out loud in front of his child, although Soul personally knew that Wes had a filthier mouth than him. It was surprising because out of the both of them, Soul was usually seen as the most vulgar brother. People were often shocked when they realized he was tame compared to his brother. It was always the nauseatingly polite ones, but no one would know that until they ticked Wes off.

Soul glanced at the clock and resisted a sigh. He would already be eating with Maka at this time. In fact, they'd probably be prodding each other about something, and he'd probably be making her flush that pretty pink—and she'd kick him under the table, and he'd grab her hand and tangle their fingers, and it'd just end as another calm night with Maka on his chest and his arm around her, or maybe even his hand under her shirt or, better yet, down those silk panties she liked to wear—

"DINNER'S READY! Soul, I gave you an extra, okay, baby? I hope you like it! I put a twist on my usual style and used a different seasoning! It's a lot spicier, too..."

"Not steak," Wes announced when he walked into the dining room.

"_Fish_," his brother grinned, and sat down with a fork already in his hand. "That beats a steak any day."

Wes only smiled.

Dinner went as it usually went when he ate: Blair molested both him and Wes, although Wes leaned into her touch and made him want to gag with their touchy-touchy, lovey-lovey displays of affection. It made him think back to Maka and him: when they went on dates, they were never so openly affectionate. They would hold hands, but nothing more. He was never one for open displays of affection, and although Maka did not seem against it, she never tried to, either. He was suddenly very relieved that Maka respected his space. Blair seemed to have no boundaries.

Soul ate slowly. In the time it took him to devour two miso-glazed black cods accompanied with white rice and vegetables, Gil talked to him rapidly about his cartoons, Wes asked for thirds, and Blair nearly bored him to tears with her chatter on the latest fashion trends. Soul gave his critique after he finished and got into another argument with Blair about the sear on the cod, and then he went to go tuck Gil into bed.

It was another usual dinner for him.

He was glad that their level of comfort with him had not changed despite his long absence.

"Are you going to eat with us tomorrow, too, uncle?"

Soul smiled, ruffling his nephew's hair. "Definitely. So go to bed, Gil, you have school tomorrow."

Gil beamed and snuggled into his blankets. Soul left when he saw Gil's breathing even out, heading back to the living room. Blair was in the kitchen, singing along to a pop song while she washed the dishes.

"Is Gil asleep?" Wes asked when Soul sank back in the couch, a yawn stifled behind his hand.

"Yep. Knocked right out," he told him sleepily.

"You look ready to knock out yourself."

"Long day," he said, not elaborating.

"...So, how have you and Maka been?"

"Great."

"Great?"

"Yeah," Soul raised a brow when Wes eyed him. "What?"

"_Just_ great?"

"Would 'fantastic' be a better word?"

Wes rolled his eyes. "I'm just worried about you two. You didn't do too well in your last relationship."

"That was my _last_ relationship. This is _now_," he replied, sharply.

Wes eased off a little. "I personally like Maka better. I didn't know your ex very well, but from what you've described, Maka is a lot more comforting and—!"

"_Sweet!_ She's a sweetie! I knew since I saw her in high school that she was a cutie patootie!" Blair squealed, pouncing on Wes from behind. She nuzzled his cheek with her arms wrapped around his neck, her rear swaying like a cat's. "And Soul-y liked her sooo much, Wes. It was _so_ cute, he would always be looking at her and talking about her to me when I went to go see him! Nyaaa~!" she giggled when Soul growled at her, face starting to warm. "Soul really, really liked her," Blair's laughter softened and her eyes lit proudly. "And now he's with her! Blair never thought that would happen! You're so lucky, Soul-y, I thought you'd never see her again after high school!"

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, looking sidelong when Blair sent him a beaming smile.

"When are you going to invite her over to dinner?"

"Eh?"

Wes grinned. "Don't give me that look. You can bring her over, if you want. You'd probably be less bored with her here and Blair's wanted to meet her since she discovered you two were dating. Invite her over one of these days."

"Yesss! Oh, do it next Saturday! Saturday! Blair is making salmon on Saturday!"

Soul snorted, which made Blair cock her head. "Maka hates fish, maybe another day."

Blair gasped in absolutely shock, mouth pinched and her eyes ablaze. Wes took over before Blair could off on a rampage. "Well, then, what about Sunday?"

Soul rubbed the back of his neck. "See, we did talk about her coming over here, but...the problem is Gil. Maka is his teacher, and she told me that she wants to maintain professionalism or something. She doesn't want to get mixed up in his life until he's out of the second grade, at least," he told Wes, who considered this seriously and nodded in agreement.

"She's a lot more conscientious than I thought she would be."

Soul quirked a grin, something that did not go unnoticed by Blair.

"She just thinks too much," he said instead, a yawn forcing itself out of his mouth. "Man, I'm stuffed. I'm gonna' go sleep this off. Thanks for dinner, Blair. Later, Wes," he waved at the pair, Blair beaming up at him and bidding him a cheery goodnight. Wes only waved, his smile telling him all he needed. Wes expressed more in his smiles or frowns than words while Soul was the opposite: although not the best with words, he could explain himself well if he tried, but his expression would often remain blank. It was a trait that always made their mother bristle, only because it seemed like her scolds would go right through Soul.

"I still want to meet your sweetie, Soul!" Blair shouted before he left. "We can go out for dinner when my widdle kitten has a sleepover! It'll be fun! I'll tell you the time and day, okay?"

"Alright, sounds good. I'll give her the heads up when I see her," Soul replied, closing the door behind him. He walked to the staircase and went down to the lower floor, heading down the hall to where his apartment was. The one thing he did like about his apartment was the floor separation. He did not think he could take Wes or Blair walking in on him if they lived next door to each other. It was bad enough that he had to change in the bathroom all the time, in fear of walking out and finding Blair in the hall, screeching about something or the other. The last time it had happened, she had laughed and told him that his brother never told her that he had the cutest birthmark near his right nipple.

Needless to say, Soul had changed the locks on his door to keep her out. It lasted a good two months before she acquired the key again.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and, when he took it out, a smile lifted the corner of his lips at Maka's sassy message: _goodnight! Only 6 more days until you get to sleep on my couch again!_

It was strange, but her couch was much more comfortable than his bed had ever been.

* * *

It was rather quiet in the house now that Soul was not around. But it also offered Maka a chance to be alone with her thoughts, particularly about her relationship with Soul. It was much more fulfilling and satisfying than any of her past relationships had been by a long-shot and, although they had their spats, Maka felt completely able to talk to him about it in order to right things between them. She was also rather surprised that it was Soul who usually came up to her to apologize, as she was usually the one who apologized when she had spats with her past boyfriends.

Soul was strange with his stark white hair and deep red eyes, but he was handsome. He had always been handsome. She just refused to acknowledge it because she had been under the impression that he disliked her in high school. It was quite the opposite, and it still mystified her that he liked her for such a long, long time.

She also felt like she could _trust _Soul, something that was so inherently important that Maka had promised herself to never stay with a person she could not trust ever again. Ever since Clay had proven to her that not all bad intentions could be seen by the naked eye, she had taken more care in watching for them. Since she was little, she had promised to never fall for a cheater. But it had happened, although she could firmly say she hadn't so wholly 'fallen' like her ten year old self believed she would. Falling in love like that was harder than it looked, but Soul was starting to make her believe that love was not as far away as she thought it to be.

"But he's a _BOY!"_

"_Papa_," Maka sighed in irritation. It wouldn't be the first time he had interrupted her story. "I know that not everything is what it seems! But I _do_ feel like I can trust him, and he _has_ given me reasons to believe I can."

Spirit Albarn frowned heavily, his fruity banana sundae melting already. He was in his suit, as usual, his tie straight down the middle and his blazer custom tailored. He was a sturdy man, had always been, and appeared younger than his actual age. His rogue hair was a cool mess, currently pushed back so they didn't fall into his sundae. She had called them to keep her company for dinner, and because she'd tormented Spirit enough by not eating with him for weeks.

Maka had also thought that it was about time her father knew about her new boyfriend.

"I don't like it. I don't like it _at all!_ It's bad enough that son of a bitch Clay played around with MY baby girl like that for so long! I'm not going to give this bastard my blessing until I meet him!" Spirit decided moodily, shoving a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth before he could say anything else. It never ended well when he did.

Maka sighed. Her papa had handled the news better than she thought he would. She thought he would tear out of his seat and search for Soul to give him a taste of his mind the instant she told him. But he hadn't: he had just gawked at her, and then exploded with _why _and _how _and most importantly _WHEN_ and she had answered all the questions simply. And sharply, when it looked like he wanted to tear out of the restaurant after all.

"You can meet him for dinner!"

"TOMORROW! EIGHT PM, IN THE ALLEY—!"

"PAPA!" Maka slit her eyes. "If you lay _one hand _on Soul, you'll be going home with a broken nose, you hear me? No fighting! You're going to hear him out, get to know him, and _tell me _what you think of him. Nothing else, okay?"

Spirit struggled for a second before sighing, sinking in his seat petulantly. "Yes, angel."

"Good," Maka smiled in satisfaction, and his heart went out for his little girl. Honestly, Spirit's greatest fear had been that Clay had hurt her enough that she did not want to date anymore. He was happy that his baby girl found someone she could relate to, but he was also doubly protective of her—for obvious reasons. But he would get to know this new boy of hers and if he seemed like a jerk, he would definitely not delay in getting his little girl away from him before she really got hurt. It was surprising that Maka felt so strongly for him already—he would need to evaluate Soul _critically_ in order to ensure he would never hurt his angel.

"Neh, papa, how have you been? It's been a while since I last saw you."

"Good! Works been taking a toll on my recently, but it's nothing your old pops can't handle~!" He beamed. "I even got a day off next week! I was thinking that we could go out to eat that day, too? Pleaseee?" he whined. "Papa misses Maka!"

"Hmm...oh! I know! I can bring Soul that day for dinner!" Maka exclaimed. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind having dinner with you and it's a good chance for you to meet him!"

"He _better_ not mind, or else he's outta here!" Spirit grumbled. "If I don't like the kid, you dump him, okay, Maka?"

"Papa, you hate _every _boy who takes an interest in me."

"With good reason! They're all bastards who want to use you, baby, they're _evil!"_

"Papa, you're a boy, too, y'know, and you weren't so great with mama yourself..."

Spirit sputtered, wide-eyed and gaping like a fish, and Maka wisely changed the subject before they got into an argument again. It was the one subject they would never agree on: her mother. Spirit had cheated on her a lot, albeit he loved her as well, but just not enough to stay faithful to her. Maka had eventually come to accept that her mama had made the right choice in divorcing him and moving along with her life, as well as her father's womanizing habits. Her papa had always been this way and although it was not a healthy thing, he was happy with his life, and Maka was too old for teenage grudges and late-night crying. Her papa loved her, and he was her father first and foremost.

"The week will be up by then, too, so he can't whine his way out of it!" Maka smirked.

"Week? Did you kick him out, Maka? Good! That should put him in his place! Kick him out more often! In fact, just leave him."

Maka snorted her father's attempts. "His brother and his wife wanted him over for dinner because they missed him. He's been eating dinner with me for the past few weeks, and they just wanted to spend some time with him. Their son also adores him, so Soul decided he'd spend a week eating dinner with them before coming back."

"Hmm..wait, coming back? Don't tell me that BASTARD _LIVES WITH YOU_—URGH!"

"Not so loud! We're in _public!" _Maka hissed, whacking him on the head one more time. "And for your information, no, he does _not_ live with me. He just keeps me company for dinner!" She thought telling him that he slept on her couch sometimes was not wise—and it was not him living with her so much as it was an extended sleepover?

"Just as long as he keeps his hands to himself…"

Maka rolled her eyes but smiled at her father. "So what day do you have off?"

"Wednesday."

"Wednesday night at six?" Maka offered. "We can go to the streak house that just opened down by Gallows street!"

"Sounds good to me, angel!" Spirit beamed up at his precious daughter. She was adorable, possibly more adorable than her mother had been, and it always made him feel like he was doing his job right when she was happy.

"I can't wait to meet this kid...and teach him a thing or two about what'll happen if he hurts you," he promised ardently.

"Papa..."

"And then we'll go fishing!" Spirit beamed falsely.

Maka smiled.

"...and he can go _swim_ with the fishes..."

"PAPA!"

* * *

"You _would_ pick the day I'm coming back to do this," Soul said bitterly, yanking on his tie. "So uncool..." He opted for not wearing it after his tenth yank, deciding his dress shirt would suffice. Maka was still in her bedroom, dolling herself up. The last time he had peeked inside, she had been smoothing her hands down her skirt, this one longer than the others. But it was loose on her, the skirt flaring out past her knees. He was tempted to ask her to wear heels with the skirt, if only because he had a hard time keeping his eyes above her waist and the heels would only add to his sweet torture. But she kept her black flats and he kept his mouth shut.

"Papa wants to meet you," Maka told him, pinning her hair up in a bun. She kept her make-up simple, and her clothes were nothing extravagant. But Soul had given her an appreciative look when she showed him, so she was happy with her choice. "He doesn't like that we're dating, so don't say anything that might set him off. In fact, don't even mention we're dating. Just introduce yourself. He doesn't mind flipping the table to get to you," she smiled wearily when she saw Soul's risen brow in the reflection of her mirror. "My papa's an idiot."

"Noted," he deadpanned. "This is pretty sudden, though. He couldn't _wait_ another week to meet me?"

"He had a day off today, so I told him I'd bring you," Maka shrugged. "I thought we might as well get this over with or else he'd never stop complaining about it."

Soul only sighed, watching her get ready idly. He hadn't expected to be pushed right out of her apartment then instant he walked in, after a week of being apart from her aside from phone calls and text messages.

He had fully expected to tip her over on her couch and show her just how much he missed her, but instead was told that he was to meet her father and he had to look decent. Needless to say, he was not a happy man, but it was better to get everything over with now than later. Maka would need to meet Blair and Wes (more Blair, since Wes already knew her from school), which was his equivalence to meeting his 'parents' since his real parents were half-way across the U.S. and did not even know he was on this side of the planet.

"Okay! I'm done!"

"Cool. We still have enough time to get there," Soul said, holding his hand out to her. Maka took it with a smile and snatched her keys off the coffee table as Soul led her to the door. "Man, if he's half as protective as I think he will be, this is gonna' blow so hard..."

"If you're on your _best_ behavior," Maka smiled craftily, squeezing his arm, "Something _else_ is going to be blown hard tonight," she led the way when he suddenly stopped and gawked at her, his cheeks reddening at the thought and his pants growing subtly tighter in a heartbeat. "Come on, Soul, or else we'll be late!"

"...Right," he swallowed and told himself to ease off the attitude because the reward would surely be worth it.

The reward was starting to not seem worth it.

"Why is your hair white? Maka, why is his hair white? You told me you were dating a grown man, not a goddamn punk!"

"It's _natural,_" Soul hissed through his teeth. It had only been twenty minutes and already he wanted to tear Spirit's spine out through his mouth. Spirit Albarn had been surprisingly younger than he expected, and he could see similarities between he and Maka in the cheeks and nose. He seemed decent, cool and level-headed, even, until he caught sight of Maka and became a puddle of daddy mush. Even _Wes _wasn't that in love with his kid and Wes coddled his kid _rotten_.

Spirit Albarn absolutely adored his daughter and Soul had become public enemy number one the instant he laid eyes on him. He had literally squeezed Maka to his chest when he approached, blue eyes squinty and nose wrinkled in a sneer. He had sized him up, introduced himself, and stiffly shook his hand when he offered it. Soul was sure if Maka hadn't told them she was hungry, Spirit would have tried to crush his hand.

Spirit was also a total dick.

But not to Maka—oh, no, he was nauseatingly _loving _to his daughter, spoiling her with everything and not sparing a glance at him.

He was lucky Maka kept her dad in check because he was sure Spirit had a lot more interesting comments to throw at him than just picking at his physical attributes.

"What type of person has natural white hair?"

"I'm English, _you_—!" He bit back his scathing remark when Maka kicked him, her eyes warning. "My dad has white hair. It's hereditary."

"Your father would have white hair since he's older," Spirit huffed, eying him with distrust. Soul wanted to rub his eyes out—now he thought he was _too old?_

"You're old, too, but your hair seems just fine. Unless it's a _wig_," Soul jabbed and grinned when Spirit sputtered and nearly dropped his glass of wine. "Did I hit the nail on the head?" Maka stomped on his toes and he had to bite down a cry of despair.

"You say that again, you—!"

"WAITER!" Maka said loudly, glaring her papa down. "We're ready to take our orders now," she smiled and tried to ignore the way her boyfriend and her father were glaring daggers at one another.

"It's natural," Spirit mumbled.

"Go figure," Soul sneered and ignored his dark look.

They managed to get through half of their dinner without either going for the jugular, which was a lot more than Maka had expected. She was impressed that her papa managed to reign in his hostility toward Soul for so long, but it had to eventually come out when Soul mentioned that he worked long hours sometimes.

"I just don't think you'd be able to give Maka the attention she deserves," Spirit flatly told him.

"Maka doesn't need to be babied twenty four hours a day, sorry to disappoint you," Soul bit right back. "I think she can go a few hours without someone holding her hand!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it's supposed to mean!"

"You're implying that I baby her!"

"You do!" Soul argued. "You completely smother her!"

"She is _my_ daughter and there's nothing wrong with giving her some attention every now and then!"

"_And_ she's twenty six and doesn't need to be smothered like she's two!"

"_Assuming_ I smother her!"

"You admitted to it like a second ago!"

"I MAY SMOTHER HER BUT SHE LIKES IT!"

"I'm pretty sure she _doesn't_," Soul deadpanned. Maka groaned into her palm as they became engrossed in who was smothering who the most. Spirit might smother her sometimes, and sure she might not like it all the time, but why was that such an issue? She was well aware that Soul worked long hours on some days, but had other days off, so she was not too concerned about it. She worked long hours, too, being a teacher and all, and often took her work home to finish, so what difference did it make?

Her papa couldn't talk, anyway, he was hardly there for her when she was younger. Although she did admit he was present more than her mother had been.

When their argument became more ridiculous—with Spirit claiming that Soul wouldn't know anything about how to smother someone the _right_ way—she decided enough was enough.

"Both of you..." Maka rumbled, twitching when neither heard her. "SHUT UP!" She snarled, slapping a hand over Soul's mouth and glaring daggers at her father. Both immediately swallowed their next words and Maka kept her eyes steady on her papa's. "I came here to have a nice dinner with my father and my boyfriend. Not to be arguing about who is smothering who because at the end of the day, it doesn't matter. Soul works long hours, I do, too, and so do _you_, papa, so don't go pretending you have all the time in the world for me," she slit her eyes when her father opened his mouth. He closed it immediately. "Now, can we have a nice dinner and end the night on a good note? Or do I have to take drastic measures?"

Their waiter came with their desserts at that time and Spirit smiled shakily down at his chocolate soufflé. "I-I-I love chocolate, angel."

Soul squinted at him and muffled out, "_Liar_," only to have his toes stomped on again. "...M-me, too," he croaked, sweating bullets at Maka's menacing stare. "Chocolate, yeah, cool."

Maka smiled and dropped her hand, digging into her dessert as both men breathed sighs of relief. But they immediately scowled at each other when they realized they were smiling at one another. No way would either admit defeat so early on, so the rest of their dinner was spent giving each other looks as they ate their dessert and Maka talked about some of her students.

"I'm going to the restroom," Maka announced, standing up. "I'll be back soon. No fighting, okay? If I come back and see that you're arguing, I'm going to hit you both with my book regardless of who started it." Maka eyed them both. She was doing this on purpose, so they had time to sort things out, because she was seriously getting sick of her papa making faces at Soul every ten seconds.

The instant she was out of earshot, Spirit hissed: "Alright, you shithead, I don't know what you want with my daughter, but just be warned that if she comes out hurt, I'm sticking your head in my grill and roasting that hair of yours to a normal color!"

"I'm _dating _her because I _like _her, genius," he sneered right back. "Look, I know Maka's had some rough times in the past, but I'm not gonna' go messing this up. I waited too long for this."

Spirit squinted at him. "Waited?"

Soul instantly blanked his expression. Spirit could respect his poker face. "Yeah. Waited. For a long time."

"How long?" Spirit leaned in, curious despite himself. "Did you two know each other before?"

"Yeah...in high school."

"High school?" He prompted. "She never spoke about any Soul when she was in high school."

Soul awkwardly cleared his throat. "Uh, we weren't on very good terms with each other back then."

"If you bullied her in high school, I'm going to rip your throat out—!"

"I DIDN'T!" Soul snapped. At Spirits stony look, he sighed. "I mean, I just...couldn't talk to her, so she thought I was being a jerk."

"All you have to do is open your mouth and talk. It's not very difficult. You're doing it right now."

"I _know_, smart ass," Soul scathed. Spirit ignored the jab. "But I really liked her, alright? I was also flunking half my classes and she was fucking valedictorian, can you see my problem?"

Spirit hummed, leaning back with his arms crossed. "Her mom was valedictorian, too. And filthy rich," he said, catching his attention. He sank back in his seat, crossing his ankles. "I was broke, I barely had enough money to support myself. I understand."

"Social classes aside," Soul continued, "My best friend was pretty mean to her at the time. I was always there, so, it just kinda' fell on me, too. I didn't say anything, so she thought I hated her as well, when in reality I didn't but I didn't wanna' lose my best friend so...I screwed up, you don't have'ta tell me," he said before Spirit could talk. "I know that now. I told her everything, and we settled it. We're good. She forgives me."

"For being a total moron?"

Soul glared. "Yeah."

"I don't," he huffed.

"Yeah, I can see that."

"But that's a long time," Spirit added, scratching his cheek broodingly. "Unless you're _lying_ to me."

"You can ask your precious angel if you think so."

"Hey!" Spirit warned. "Word of advice: Maka likes being called angel. I'd get on it, if I were you."

"Angel's so _cliché_, though."

"You gotta' do what you gotta' do to keep her happy, you hear me, punk?"

"Yeah… but I won't call her that, that's just...weird, since _you_ call her that," Soul blanched at the thought. It was just plain weird. If he had a pet name for Maka, it'd probably be something not-so-cute like Ma'am. Or Mistress.

Or Master.

Soul quickly shook those naughty thoughts off lest Spirit caught sight of his flush and sunk in his seat. He had some strange kinks he was still reluctant to embrace. "We might not like each other," he began, while Maka was still away. He wanted to be on decent terms with the guy; the last thing he needed was to have him on his ass for every little thing. "But we both care for Maka, so I think we should just try to get along for her sake...and _ours_, since she'll kick our asses every time we argue. She's got a book on her, now I know why she brought it."

Spirit grunted, not looking at all happy with the thought, and mumbled out of the corner of his lip, "...love her more than you..."

"What?"

"I said, I love her more than you, because she is my angel and you can't even call her that!"

Soul narrowed her eyes. "You're her dad, but that doesn't mean I can't love her as much as you do."

"When you can call her angel, then we'll talk!"

"Dude, think about it, it's weird! Her dad calls her angel, why would I call her that, too, that's just too _weird!_"

"Then what would you call her?" Spirit challenged, slamming a fist on the table. Soul wanted to melt into his seat—were they _really _having this argument? Were they really arguing about what to call Maka on their off-time? "Huh?"

"I-I dunno'! Honey?"

Spirit scoffed mockingly. "You're not even trying! See, you don't love her half as much as you say you do!"

Soul scowled, taking actual offense to that. "I don't _have_ to call her anything to prove that I love her. That's stupid."

"But it shows you do!"

"My _actions _show what she means to me," Soul stated. "Not some stupid pet name that a thousand other people use, too!"

Spirit studied him for a second. "But if you had to?"

Soul pressed his lips together and said nothing. He caught sight of Maka coming down the aisle and before she was too close, he muttered:

"...Sweetheart."

Spirit gave him a strange look. "Sweetheart?"

"Papa, if you're flirting with the waitress again, I'm going to dump my tea on you," Maka warned when she approached them, sitting down and eying both of them. Spirit looked thoughtful and Soul was brooding in his seat. She had no idea what happened, but it wasn't as bad as she thought it'd be. Or maybe it was. "Papa?"

"I'm not, angel, I was just...discussing a couple of things with him," Spirit looked at Soul to find him looking back, guarded.

"What kinds of things?"

"Nothing you should concern yourself over!" Spirit beamed.

"Then what was the 'sweetheart' all about?"

"Because _you are my sweet_—!"

"Nevermind," Maka immediately shot down, causing Soul to snigger at Spirit's absolutely heartbroken expression. "Considering the table is still intact, I take it you two talked everything out?"

"Mostly," Soul answered, shortly.

Maka looked expectantly at her father.

Spirit wanted to damn the kid and just make him look bad but he couldn't, because the punk had _actually_ passed his test. He had not expected him to, but he had, and he'd take his word for it about being in love with her for the past few years. He knew all about being at odds with a girl you liked, as his ex-wife had been his dream woman until he messed everything up. But Soul wouldn't: he did not have that type of self-destructiveness that he had. He was better than him. He would be _good_ to her; for all his attitude, he knew a good man when he saw one, and Soul was a good man. He expected big things from him, which was why he said, "He's not as bad as I thought he'd be," and refused to give him any more than that.

Although that was that was needed because his daughter's face lit up with delight and Soul cast him a wide-eyed look, certainly not expecting that from him.

The night went smoothly thereafter.

Spirit Albarn went home at peace, knowing his daughter was in safe hands.

Soul went home with Maka's lips at his neck and her hand sliding up his thigh, the thought that they had waited long enough for this making their words racy and his voice husky, and the extra thought that he would certainly do all in his power to keep her as happy as she possibly could firmly imbedded in his mind.

All without calling her a silly pet name.


	3. Chapter 3

**lost in the moment**  
**by.** _Poisoned Scarlett_

It was only fair, now that she thought about it.

They were in that phase in their relationship: the meet-the-parents, the approval stage. It was becoming very serious between them and, although her gut clenched and her hands became clammy with the thought of what this would lead up to, Maka had faith it would work out between them.

But Maka always figured that meeting the family always entailed a sort of _reward_ at the end, regardless of how meeting said-family played out. Soul met her father, she rewarded him (and herself, she wouldn't lie) with a heated night that left both exhausted the next morning. But as Maka sat at the front of the table with Soul and Wes sitting beside each other and Blair right next to her, she was starting to think that the reward for dealing with Blair's questions was absolutely not worth it at all.

"Nya, if I were a boy, I'd have stolen you away from Souly by now! You're so_ cute_~!"

Maka felt her cheeks warm and she managed an awkward smile that had Wes sighing into his hand.

"Blair, I'm sitting _right here_."

"I know you are, baby, and I love you very much," Blair sent Wes an air-kiss he only shook his head at before he returned to his dish.

"Come off it, Blair, you're married," Soul deadpanned and ignored his sister-in-law when she giggled loudly. "Where's Gil?"

"Sleeping over at his friend's house," Blair informed and turned to Maka, who flushed when she got caught staring. She was mostly looking at the chopsticks that held Blair's deep purple hair up in an elaborate bun on the back of her head, long and straight strands of her hair framing her pretty features. Blair still had shockingly purple hair; Maka was rather surprised that at her age, with a child, married, she still dyed her hair the wild purple color. She was wearing an informally tied yukata with her sleeves pushed up to her elbows and Maka wondered what had compelled her to wear it in the first place. It was ultra-short, ending mid-thigh, and she had matched it with black, strapping, heels. The heel itself was enough to make Maka blanch; how could she walk so comfortably in such high heels?

Soul had told her they would be having dinner at Wes' apartment, but he had received a last-minute call from Wes that told them they would be awaiting them at a Japanese Fish and Grill restaurant. Soul was hesitant about it since he knew very well of her distaste for fish, but the hopeful look on his face was enough to quiet most of her whines. Maka tried to see the bright side to the situation: there were a lot of Japanese dishes that did _not_ involve fish and Maka knew her plates well, since her mama was Japanese and often took her to such restaurants when she was younger.

She had changed into slightly more formal attire after a second's thought and then they left to the restaurant. She and Soul were the first to arrive, at least until Soul spotted his brother coming through the parking lot. They had met in the lobby, waiting to be seated, but Wes was not the problem: Maka was really anxious to meet _Blair_. She had not seen her since her high school days and during those days Maka had thought ill of her most of the time. Mostly because of her wild outfit choices, which included but were not limited to ultra-short skirts and ass-hugging shorts with mid-drift shirts.

They had been seated and Blair still had not made her appearance. Wes had said she needed to take care of some things in the car and would arrive soon. He hadn't looked nervous, so Maka told herself not to sweat it. But when she saw Blair walk in wearing such a thing, she wanted to ask _why_ she decided to dress like a red-light girl in Tokyo. But she'd kept her comments to herself and bowed a little when she greeted her, something that made Blair squeal because she was not Japanese and had never been granted such a gesture. Maka smiled and Soul had given them both a weird look before turning back to his menu.

Neither man looked disturbed by Blair's choice in clothes.

The entire restaurant, however...

"My knees hurt," Soul whined. He gave up kneeling and stretched out his legs out from under the table. Considering they were in an authentic Japanese restaurant, they had the option of kneeling or using chairs. Of course, Wes had picked the one without. Maka hadn't a problem: she might have been raised in a Western household, but that didn't mean that her mama hadn't taken her to these sorts of establishments when she was a kid.

"Soul, get your feet off my lap, they stink!" Maka complained, laughing when he glared at her and said _they_ _did not because he took a shower before coming over and his shoes were brand-new. _"You can sit cross-legged," she suggested but he refused to move his feet from her lap. She placed her hands on his ankles when she saw he wouldn't move and massaged them absently while Wes explained why Gil had not come along with them.

"Soul told me you wanted to keep a level of professionalism while you were with him, and I have to agree that it's the best course of action. We'll invite you over for dinner after Gil moves onto the third grade, that way it won't be so awkward for him."

"I doubt it'd be awkward," Maka smiled. "But I don't need Gil to go telling all his friends that he had dinner with his teacher."

"Gil has a big mouth, like his dad," Soul grinned.

"I do not have a big mouth!"

"Yeah, you do, even mom said you talk so much she thinks she had a daughter instead of a son—!" Soul caught his brother's punch and cussed when he brought him into a headlock, Wes grinning viciously down at his little brother.

"How about I bring it back?" Wes smirked, raising his fist. Maka had no idea what he meant by that, but she did in the next second: Wes ground his fist into the most painful noogie Maka had ever seen and she laughed when Soul swore, trying to weasel his way out of his brother's grip.

"_I'm gonna' fucking_ _punch you if you don't let go_—WESSSS!"

"Alright, alright! Don't get your panties in a twist, little brother, it's a simple gesture," he smirked, watching his brother comb his hair back to its messy perfection with shrewd eyes. He laughed when Soul elbowed him, but he saw his brother's slight grin.

"Aren't my boys just the cutest?" Blair squealed to Maka.

Maka just smiled brightly, something that made Blair bubble with happiness because she was sure they had made a good impression. When Blair had heard that Maka was Japanese, she had been bursting with glee. Blair absolutely adored Japanese culture and no doubt Maka would be able to give her some insight on her—or even Japan, if she had been there! And the sushi—she wondered what type of sushi she liked and if they shared a favorite plate!

"Neh, Maka, how come your eyes aren't squinty?" Blair asked cheerfully.

Maka stared.

Soul choked on laughter and Wes tried hard to keep in a grin at the question.

"E...eh?" Maka looked at Blair in disbelief. "My eyes?"

"Yeah, they're not slanted and Wes said you were Japanese!" Blair pulled on the corner of her own eyes for emphasis.

Maka glared Soul quiet and ignored his sniggers to answer: "My mama was Japanese. My papa's American, so I'm not full Japanese. I...got most of his features, although I got my green eyes from my mama," Maka added happily. "And my hair color and it's straightness I guess." She prodded a strand of her hair, jumping when Blair did as well.

"Uwah, I thought you straightened your hair!"

"No, I don't need to," Maka laughed. "It's naturally straight. I don't like it, it's really..._flat_."

"Nooo, it's perfect, I wish my hair was straight! It's always so _poofy_ and it takes forever to straighten," she whined, leaning over with a huge pout. She looked at her hair with longing. "I want your hair, Maka-nya."

"Nya?" Maka repeated, puzzled. "Like...the cat?"

"Blair likes to think she's a cat sometimes," Wes informed, nonchalantly. He did not seem at all disturbed that his wife liked to attach feline noises to names. "It's a habit."

"'Weirdest habit _I've_ ever heard about," Soul mumbled, ignoring his brother's elbow jab.

"Nya!"

Maka gave her a three-second stare before she cracked a smile, laughing. She was so absolutely ridiculous, but it was hard not to like her. Maka felt guilty for judging her so harshly. There was really more to Blair than her clothes.

"Nyaaa! Your eyes _are_ slanty! I can tell when your smile—look, look, I can see it!"

Soul burst out laughing and she did not regret jabbing her finger into the hollow of his ankle to shut him up. She glared at Wes, too, not about to exclude him from the laughter-fest. He did his best to suck in his laugh, but Maka could see it in the way his eyes watered from holding it in.

When their menus arrived, Blair and Soul immediately jumped on it. Wes was more methodical, going through each page slowly. Maka skipped past all the seafood, searching for something that had chicken or any other type of meat.

Soul was the first to finish ordering, then Blair, then Wes. Maka was left last, and she definitely ordered the least Japanese dish. It had chicken in it, teriyaki to be specific, along with deep-fried vegetables and a salad.

"Eh? You didn't get fish, Maka-nya?" Blair blinked rapidly. "Don't you like it?"

"A-ah...well..." Maka fidgeted, sheepish. Blair looked so baffled by it, it made Maka feel silly for not liking fish. It seemed everyone she met adored fish. "Not really. I don't like the smell."

"Blair, I wasn't kidding when I said Maka doesn't like fish. It makes her nauseous," Soul drawled, chewing on some tempura rolls the waiter had brought in as appetizers. Wes was eating one as well, watching both women talk with an air of observation.

"But whyyy? Fish is so good! Fish is great!"

"I guess it might be because my mama cooked a lot of fish when I was little and I just got sick of it," Maka admitted, scratching her cheek. "But when I eat it now, I get sick, so I avoid it. It also stinks!"

"Hey, don't look at me," Soul glared.

"Every time you eat fish and you stay over, you stink up the entire place! You better shower twice when you get back," Maka mumbled the last bit but Blair heard it and that was the last time Maka ever made such comments. Just by Blair's following (coy, saucy, absolutely not-safe-for-work) comments and Wes' guileless yet somehow smug smile, Maka was sure her face would never again regain its pale tint. It also didn't help that Soul added fuel to the fire by curling his lip up in the ever barest hint of a smirk when Blair said that Maka looked like the type to wear cute printed undies.

Maka bent Soul's toe back when he opened his mouth, preventing any incriminating words from escaping him.

Needless to say, Soul sat cross-legged from therein.

Blair interrogated her about the Japanese culture for all of dinner. Along the way, she supposed she got to her know better than most people did, because a lot of the things she asked led to other things in her life. She'd even surprised Soul when she told them that she had actually cliff dived when she went to Switzerland with her mother. But Blair did not get the Japanese perspective on her culture, unfortunately: Maka knew more about European lifestyles than she did Japanese culture, and Blair made sure she knew of her dissatisfaction.

"You're the _least_ Japanese person Blair has ever met," Blair mourned, burying her face in her arms.

"I don't like sushi, or most of the cuisine they serve in Japanese restaurants," Maka began, patting Blair's back. "But I do like some Japanese food and I know how to cook it since my mama was a sous-chef for a few years."

Wes' eyes widened in horror. "_Fuck_."

Soul cringed.

Maka was about to ask what was it she had said wrong when Blair suddenly neared her face, her golden eyes shimmering. It was if she had told her that she had won the lottery—and, surely, both brothers thought, she _had _in her own way.

It turned out Blair's passion was cooking.

It also turned out that once she started talking about cooking, there was no stopping her, and Blair had added Maka as a contact on her phone in order to continue the conversation later.

Maka didn't get her reward, not with Blair calling her cellphone every five minutes when she didn't answer.

But Maka _did_ throw her pillow at Soul when he grinned rakishly and shot an unnecessary "I told you so" at her.

That time he slept on the couch alone while Maka listened to Blair talk about stoves well into the night.

* * *

Gil knew that something was not quite right between his teacher and his uncle. He did not mean this badly, he meant this curiously: his teacher was nicer to his uncle than before, when she'd always walk away or ignore him when he was near. Now she sought him out and he did, too, and they talked about a lot of things—sometimes they argued, but it was not serious. It reminded Gil of when his parents argued and then his mom would leap on his dad and laugh into his neck, his dad nuzzling his nose against her hair, and they would be happy again.

But his teacher did not leap into his uncles arms and his uncle did not nuzzle his teacher's hair. They just smiled at each other a lot and sometimes he saw their fingers link briefly before his teacher crossed her arms behind her and his uncle stuffed them in his pockets.

It confused him because he didn't know if his teacher and his uncle were in love like his _parents _or if his teacher and his uncle just liked to talk to each other? It was a confusing subject for Gil; he just ignored it most of the time, or forgot about it when he played with his friends. But it'd always come back when he watched his parents.

"Dad!"

"Hmm?"

"Does uncle like Miss Albarn?"

Wes paused, flicking his eyes to his son. "Why would you say that? Do you think so?"

"Kinda'," Gil admitted. He played with his crayons. "Uncle... smiles at Miss Albarn like you do when mommy's asleep."

Wes cleared his throat, coughing into his fist. "You mean happily?"

"I guess," Gil shrugged. "And Miss Albarn likes to talk to uncle now. She didn't like to before because she said uncle was a meanie. But I think she forgave him now and knows how cool he is," he brightened then dimmed again. "But sometimes they...they hold hands, like their fingers go like this," he linked his fingers together. His father watched quietly. "Then they let go and Miss Albarn kind of laughs at uncle. I think uncle tells her secret jokes," he stated. "I wanna' hear them but they don't let me."

"Well it certainly sounds like they like each other, huh?" Wes smiled, sympathetically. Gil puckered his lips sourly. "Would it be bad if they do? Especially if your uncle is happy? He's been happier recently, hasn't he? He takes you to more places now and he also talks to you more, right?"

Gil paused, contemplating his words. It was true: his uncle _did _look happier now. He liked to pick him up now and he stayed over sometimes when he was on break from his job to talk to his teacher and him. He didn't do that before. He remembered his uncle as being someone very hard to reach. It always felt like there was an ocean between them, but now it felt...different, closer, _warmer_. His uncle wasn't so out-of-reach like he once thought he was and he was happy for that. He loved his uncle and wanted to be like him…

"Yeah..."

"Then it's a good thing that they like each other, right?"

"But I like Miss _Albarnnnnn_," he whined, slumping over his desk.

Wes smiled crookedly. "Miss Albarn is very nice, but it's important to consider her opinion, too, right? Because you respect her and she respects you, right?"

"Yes..."

"You should ask her," Wes encouraged gently. "And whatever answer she gives you, you should respect it, because if it was her asking, she would respect your answer, too. Just like how mommy always asks you what you want for lunch and respects that you don't like a lot of green beans in your rice."

Gil pondered upon it and then beamed, offering his father a toothy grin. "Okay! I'll ask her tomorrow! I promise I'll respect her opinion!"

"That's good, it's very important that you respect people's opinions," Wes reclined in his seat while his son doodled. He felt his wife's nails gently scrape the back of his neck and when he craned his neck back, he found her smiling warmly down at him.

She kissed his nose and continued to the bathroom.

Wes looked back down at his newspaper and smiled, knowing she had heard them both and approved of his method of handling a troublesome childhood crush.

* * *

The next day, Gil did ask his teacher who she liked.

He had done it, and so Wes made sure to finish his work early so he could go console his angry son after school; perhaps smooth things enough so his son did not totally dislike his brother. At least not for too long; Soul also became surly when he had arguments with his son. Soul _did_ care for Gil, even if he called him a brat and whined about babysitting him when he was off his job.

But, to his surprise, Gil is not angry when he picked him up that day.

He was wearing a smile, jumping around his teacher who smiled down at him and then pointed at his car. Gil waved goodbye to her and ran to his father, who watched his son dash over to him speedily.

"Gil?"

"DADDY! GUESS WHAT?"

Wes looked at Maka, then back at Gil, wondering rather sickly if Maka had spared her son's feelings and done something irrevocable. "What?"

"MISS ALBARN IS GONNA' BE LIKE—LIKE MY SISTER NOW SHE TOLD ME SO!" He screeched, so happy and oblivious to his father's slack jaw and pale face. "I HAVE A SISTER! I HAVE A SISTER!" He chanted happily, swaying back and forth, seemingly over the fact that he liked_ liked_ his teacher. He just seemed content knowing that she'd be part of the family. "I always wanted a big sister!" He beamed. "Now I have one, isn't that cool—WHERE'S UNCLE I CAN'T WAIT TO TELL HIM I WANT—MMPH!"

"Now, Gil," Wes patted his sons head, staring steadily into his wide eyes. "You won't tell Soul of this until I say so okay?"

"Huh? Whyyy?"

"It's an, ah, surprise," Wes improvised. His son seemed to buy it and seemed even _more_ enthused. "Just keep it to yourself for a little longer, okay? Stay here, too, will you—?" Wes cursed softly under his breath when he saw Maka head back into school grounds, rallying up a small group of students. His moment to interrogate Maka on just _what type of sister _she would become to them had passed. If it was what he thought it was, then Soul was going far, _far_ too fast and he needed to have a word with him.

Wes looked back at Gil, who bounced happily in his seat.

Why was this all so very difficult?

* * *

"Well, that was easy," Soul commented as Maka happily bounced on the couch, getting herself comfy and wiggling her back into his chest. Soul let his finger curl around one of her pigtails as she explained:

"Well, Gil told me that he liked me, so I said I did, too, but as my little brother because I've never had any siblings. He thought about it and then he realized he didn't, either, and he was really happy to know that I'm going to be like an older sister to him, which would explain why I'm with you all the time," Maka told him logically.

"He'll figure it out eventually, y'know," Soul changed the channel as Maka flipped a page in her book. "That we're not just hanging out and we're doing a lot more. Gil might be blind-sighted right now, but he'll figure it out. He's a smart kid."

"I know," Maka agreed, gently. Soul glanced down at her. "But he'd have a different image of me by then. He'd be thinking 'Big Sister Maka', not 'I like Maka'. He still doesn't understand the complexities of relationships, that it's more than just telling a person you like them. He's still a child, Soul, and I think letting him slowly come to his own conclusions is the best way to handle this without hurting him so cruelly. Who knows? He might actually come to see me as a big sister," she said, wistfully.

"You don't have any siblings?"

"No," she confessed. Her book didn't seem that interesting anymore. "It was just me. My mama was already having issues with papa before I was even conceived, so when I was in her tummy, mama had been thinking about leaving my dad. But she didn't, she gave him another chance."

"Because of you?" He let his knuckles brush down her cheek softly. Maka leaned against them.

"Mhm. She thought I should grow up in a two-parent household, but when I grew older, she left. She had enough, I guess. Papa raised me from therein and I think he did an okay job," she smiled here, a little sadly. "He wasn't perfect, but he did help me in a lot of ways. At least he had stayed when I needed him the most..." She sank a little deeper against Soul's chest and he wrapped his arm around her midsection, letting his nose bury in her hair while she settled comfortably. The night was quiet and he hugged her to him and gave her the comfort she had missed for so many years. Maka was grateful for his presence; it helped, she thought, with the loneliness she hadn't realized she'd been living with until he stepped into her life.

His phone vibrated.

Soul did not move.

"Pick it up, Soul."

"Ngh."

"_Soul_."

He rifled through his pocket and pulled his phone out, stifling a yawn when he saw who it was. He called way too much. Maka found it cute, but Soul just found it irritating, especially when he called so late at night because he apparently had no concept of day and night. "S'Wes, what does he want? It's gonna' be ten," he answered nonetheless, a dull hello that quickly became a choke. "Wh-_what?"_

Maka's sleepiness faded at his stricken tone and when she wiggled up to glance at him, she found him gawking at the wall.

"Wait a second, where did you get that idea?" Soul paused, pushing Maka's face away when she leaned over curiously. "N-no! I'm not marrying Maka, Wes, who told you I was?"

Now it was Maka's turn to gawk.

"She—_you fucking idiot, she meant as an actual sister. _Wes, I've been dating her for like four months, even _I_ know that's too fast," he groaned into his palm. Maka couldn't help her tiny giggle at him and he peeked through his fingers to glare lightly at her. "Wes, relax, I assure you, when I decide to get married, you'll be the first to know," he dully told him and sighed when Wes made him promise. "I do—I _promise_, there, are you happy?"

Maka sank back as he spoke with his brother. She watched him from the corner of her eye. Marriage was a word that weighed heavily on her tongue. It was word she didn't like talking about. She had always said she would never marry but, looking at Soul, she found she wasn't as repulsed by the idea as she thought she would be. It still made her a mess of nerves, but that was different than flat-out revulsion like before.

"Marriage?" Maka wondered aloud as Soul rushed to hang up. He looked cute, scowling with blazing red cheeks. Almost like a stubborn child, she thought adoringly. "Do you plan on getting married, Soul?"

"If it happens, sure."

Maka waited for him to continue.

"I mean, marriage isn't decided by just one person. Both have to be in agreement. So if we both want to get married, why not?"

Her blood was rushing and she felt that familiar lightheadedness start to overwhelm her. "W-we?"

He flustered, stammering out, "I-I mean, y'know, between partners, like, couples. If it's cool between them, why not? I don't see a reason why not…" He looked away from her inquisitive eyes, hoping his burning cheeks would subside. Maka looked back forward and smiled softly at the thought of marriage, of Soul wearing a white suit. He always said he hated suits—maybe his wedding attire wouldn't even be a suit.

"And if one partner doesn't want to get married?" She asked quietly. Her eyes remained glued to the floor. "Then what?"

"It doesn't matter. Either way it's fine. Just being together is enough," he said. He watched her fidget for a moment and then she buried her nose into his chest again. He opened his arms a little more and hefted her closer to him, crossing his legs so she could sit comfortably on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, cheek resting on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat: it was loud. "Marriage is a fancy way of telling others that we're off-limits. It isn't necessary, though, at least I don't think so. If you really want to be with that person, nothing should stop you from doing it."

"...I don't like marriage..."

Soul knew why. He didn't need for her to elaborate as they trod this thin line. "That's cool."

Maka smiled into his chest and hugged him tighter.

"Thanks, Soul."

* * *

Maka should have phrased it better—she should have told him before he even entered the classroom! Now, as she went washed out some paint cups, she could practically feel the other children staring at her. Gil remained happy: bouncing in his seat, painting cheerfully. He had no problems in his little world, even after the panicked look she sent him when he shouted the word out for everyone in the classroom to hear:

"_Sissy!"_

It was better than being called a ridiculous pet name, Maka thought dryly. Gil had been calling her _sissy _for the past few days at his home, it seemed, and Blair did not make things any better by giggling every time he did. It also didn't help that whenever Soul heard him say it, he only looked away in disinterest. That was just as bad as Blair's giggling. Wes seemed to be the only one on her side: he told his son not to call her that, to respect her title, and he did...whenever his father was around.

"U-um...Sissy?"

Maka froze.

She slowly turned, dropping her eyes to the tiny child who stared up at her with wide eyes. She smiled and said, "Sissy! I'm done with my picture!"

"Me, too, Sissy!"

"Whooo! Sissy!" another child shouted, waving around his arts and crafts project.

"SISSSSSYYY!"

"But her name's Miss Albarn!" another child complained.

"And sissy, too!"

"YEAH, YEAH! SIS!"

"_What_...?" Maka uttered, face drawn in disbelief as the children began to call her _sissy. _She was one part horrified two parts endeared and she had trouble keeping her smile off her face when Gil ran over to her and said it was most definitely _not _his idea—she was his sister, but the others thought she was their sibling, too. "Oh, man," she groaned, lent against her desk. "Great," she mumbled when she heard one of her students call her _sister _and not _teacher._

"Coming," Maka sighed, pulling on a smile for the sake of the children. "My name is Miss Albarn, though!"

"Sissssyyyy!"

"Miss Albarn!" Maka encouraged, sighing when they only whispered _sissy _between them.

That was how Soul found her during lunch break: with a miserable smile as the last remaining child skipped outside for lunch, hollering she would see her _sister _after lunch. He had his hands full with some lunch for both of them so he had trouble keeping the door open, but it turned out the delay helped in something: Maka now had her cheek on her desk, shoulders slumped, knees bent inward, completely done with life.

"Yo," he called, rattling the ice in their drinks. She shifted. "I bought you some lunch. You look dead."

"Lunch? That sounds great," Maka murmured, lifting her head and smiling gratefully at him. Soul smiled crookedly as he dropped the bag on her desk. She took a long drink of her soda first as Soul stuffed some fries in his mouth, not looking particularly bothered by her dilemma. As far as he cared, as long as Gil was not crying over losing his childhood crush, Soul was fine with the way things shaped out.

"How was class?" He asked as she brooded. "Makaaa?" He smirked suddenly, eyes lit up mischievously. "Or should I call you _sister?"_

"Soul!" Maka growled warningly. "It's bad enough Gil is calling me that, but now everyone in the class? I wanted siblings, but not that many! Or that young," she added, more to herself than Soul. "Ah, how did this happen...I didn't intend for this."

Soul's ruby eyes were alight with mirth. "So you hate nicknames that much, huh?" He mused, an idea making his grin widen. It was probably not smart, not tactful at all, but he had a chance now. If there was ever another chance to say the word, why not now?

"They're just so ridiculous!" Maka protested, digging in her bag for her hair tie. "I have a name! I don't need another one! Papa always called me by a pet name, not even my name! At one point he just called me 'angel' all the time like it was my real name!"

"That's sad," Soul commented, tapping his fingers on the emergency brake. Once she was seated, he put his brilliant plan into action. "But I guess you're gonna' have to suck it up..._sweetheart_."

The bruise on his arm was worth it.

* * *

The children had resorted to calling her sister and a few of the other teachers had asked if Maka had decided to join a convent. The looks in their eyes were dubious, however: they knew very well of Soul, who dropped by every other day, often with lunch for two. It was also no secret that he picked her up after school. She had already heard two of the English teachers giggle between themselves when she walked past: they thought her relationship with him was adorable, which usually had Maka covering up pink cheeks throughout the day.

"Look, sis, I got it done!" Gil beamed, holding out a worksheet. "Look, look!"

"Leave it here, Gil, and go sit quietly while the others finish," Maka directed patiently, smiling when he nodded vigorously and bounced back to his seat. Almost immediately, though, he began to whisper with his friend. Maka pretended not to notice although she caught his furtive glances from the corner of her eye.

She stretched, her back arching, as she waited for the children to finish their small quiz before school ended. Maka had been about to begin grading the papers she had when her eyes landed on her lower drawer. She opened it for the first time in weeks, finding no letters.

"Ah, right." Maka reached for her bag and opened that, pulling out the stack of letters. She was surprised she had forgotten all about the letters Soul had given her months before. To think she had brought them home and hadn't opened them for so long. She wondered how hard had he reallytried in these letters again. Soul had never been good with writing, this she knew certainly because she had once graded one of his essays in high school, and she figured even in college his writing hadn't improved much—or, she thought with a soft sigh, perhaps it _had _but certainly not that much, right? Then again, he had changed in many ways.

Perhaps his writing had, too.

Maka tore the first letter open, being mindful of the children who looked up at her every so often. She just pretended it was another school announcement, squaring her shoulders and keeping her face carefully composed.

She could barely hold it—she wanted to laugh.

Soul was certainly not improved: he was still rushed in his meanings, his message. Maka read over the _it happened when I was fifteen, Maka, you can't hold it against me. I had the maturity of a six year old _and could barely keep down her laughter. She hid it behind a cough, but grinned at her lap. She opened the second letter and it was even worse than the first—if the line _are you even reading these? You're such a pain, why aren't you reading these, look I'm even handwriting them! _counted as a reason for Soul to write whatever he wanted. By the third letter, which was shorter than the second, Soul had decided she was not reading them and had taken to writing about what he ate earlier in the day and how it gave him indigestion because she hated him for dumb reasons.

The fourth letter was what wiped the smug grin off her face.

The fourth letter was not a letter at all: it was sheet music. Maka had not understood until she flipped it and read the date on the back. It dated back years—since their high school days, Maka realized quietly, and when she tore open the fifth, _more_ sheet music poured out, and by the sixth sheet of complicated notes and patterns Maka understood these were all for her. They were for _her_, he wrote these for her, since they were so young, he _wrote songs for her_, something she remembered sighing over when she was young and deluded by those romance novels she read. Having a boy write a song or a poem for her, she had secretly giggled over that but had never in the world believed any boy would ever take time to write her such personal things.

Maka stared at the last letter, the thickest, and before she could tear that one open, the bell rang and shattered her silent awe.

"Ah—wait, everyone stop! Get in line—Sarah, you can wait a few seconds—Gil, no, come back and get in line!" She fretted, bewildered that she had let time pass her so quickly. She hadn't even realized it had gotten so late! She usually had the children in a line by the door five minutes before the bell rang! "Anyone who hasn't finished their quiz, turn it in now! Okay you guys, now we can...go," Maka ended with a sigh, as all the children ran out of the door; not in order at all. "Ugh. I'm so disorganized today. Get it together, Maka," she muttered to herself, slapping her cheeks a little. Her fingers lingered, though, when she realized they were warm. She was blushing. "Mmmm…" Maka stood by the door to look at the kids find their parents, holding her cheeks. Waving at each parent-child pair, watching as the group of kids became smaller and smaller was hard when her cheeks felt like they could rival the sun.

She was really embarrassed she hadn't opened the letters earlier. Maybe then they wouldn't get to her as much as they were at the moment…

_Or they'd probably get to me worse, _Maka thought. _Stupid Soul, writing me s-songs…wait, _Maka opened her eyes, snapping her head up. Her eyes shone. _Songs! This is for…for the piano, right, what else could it be for? _Maka gathered all the sheet music into her hands and straightened them out. She was flipping through them for one in particular when she heard the door open.

"Sissy?" Gil called, blinking when he found his teacher clutching papers to her chest, looking flustered. "You okay, sissy?" He closed the door behind him, walking over to her.

"I'm fine, Gil, come on!" Maka decided to leave the sheet music on the table for now. "I have to go see who's left, did you see anyone?" She hurried as Gil jogged behind her, cocking her head at her strange behavior for a second before dismissing it.

"Nooppeee! Geoff said…he was gonna' go home today with Rob so… no…" Gil paused outside as Maka scouted the yard and found no one. There would be no after school tutoring, it seemed. "Uncle Soul is gonna' be late today!"

"Why's that?" Maka asked as she spotted one last pair walking back to their vehicle. Maka looked down when Gil didn't reply and bristled when she found him poking a line of ants. "Gil, don't do that! That's not hygienic!"

"Look, they're going over my hand!"

"Uwah! Gil!" Maka panicked, brushing his hand off quickly and giving him a stern look when he complained. "You're lucky those aren't fire ants," she mumbled, ruffling his hair when he only pouted. "What about Soul?"

"Oh! He's gonna' be—THERE HE IS! I SEE HIM! UNCLE SSSOUUULLL!"

Maka giggled. That had not lasted very long. Maka clasped her hands behind her and her eyes warmed when Gil latched onto Soul's leg, grinning up at him. He had become considerably warmer toward Soul now that he looked up at her like a sister; she hoped it would last.

"What're you smiling at?" Soul looked behind him. "You look out of it—do you have a fever?" He frowned, noticing her rosy cheeks. "Wh—!"

"I WAS TELLING SIS HOW THE ANTS JUST CRAWLED OVER MY HAND LIKE NOTHING—LOOK! It's really cool, uncle, come look!"

"Gil!" Maka protested. She looked up at Soul for back-up and gawked when he knelt right next to his nephew, a grin stretched on his face.

"Whoa, that's hella' cool—!" Soul choked back his interest when he caught the look on Maka's face. He quickly dusted the ants off his nephew's knuckles and pulled him up next to him. "I, uh, that's really dangerous and you shouldn't do that, Gil!"

"Awww! But dad lets me!"

"He _does?_" Maka twitched.

"Well, not really…" Gil giggled guiltily.

Maka sighed, crossing her arms. "One day you're going to really hurt yourself, Gil, don't mess around with anything that's on the floor—especially if it's living," she cautioned. Maka waved at a teacher who was leaving campus and went back to scolding both boys. "That goes for you, too, Soul."

"Ha ha. Right, because I pick things off the floor all the time…"

"Ooooh!" Gil pointed a finger but squealed when Soul leaned down and pretended to chomp on it. Gil leaped away and ran around them, whizzing toward the chalk paintings on the ground.

"That kid's such a handful," Soul sighed wryly. "And you deal with fifteen of them every day. I'd go insane."

"You get used to it," Maka smiled up at him. She unclasped her hands from behind her and let her pinky finger link with his for a second before they let go. Maka's attention strayed to Gil when he shouted that he found his drawing. Maka did not step away when Soul's shoulder bumped with hers.

"Tutoring today?"

"Gil is the last one as far as I know."

"Ah. So Angela…?"

Maka smiled, gently. "It was just a mishap as far as I know. I saw Mifune pick her up yesterday. I think he's back to being her primary guardian."

Soul nodded, glad because he could read the relief on her face. She had been overly worried about the little girl since the entire incident happened

"Come on, I still have to go pick up some things from the class—GIL! What did I tell you about picking things up off the floor?" Maka shrieked, running over to the little boy who howled in laughter by the tree as he dangled a worm before him.

"Soul, can you go pack up my things for me while I deal with him?" She shouted over her shoulder, not waiting for a reply. Soul casually turned on his heel and headed into the classroom, a slight grin on his face as he heard Gil's laughter.

"Jeez, she's so absent—huh?" Soul grabbed the stack of sheets on the desk, his eyes widening in recognition. "These…she opened them." He stared at the stack in his hand in panic for a second and then noticed a lone sheet by the edge. Just as he had been about to grab it, Maka's heavy sigh came from the door. Gil ran in soon after, running over to his desk as Maka trudged toward Soul.

"Well, at least I got him to promise me that he won't pick up weird things from off the floor in front of me," Maka shot Gil a tiny glare when he stifled giggles in his hand. "Anyway, let's—oh," Maka stiffened, noticing the papers Soul held in his hand. The look on his face was unreadable, troubled if she'd had to describe it.

"You opened the letters."

"I was just…curious. I was going to do it at home but I decided it couldn't hurt to do it here."

"Er, well," Soul awkwardly folded the letters and he was about to crumple them and throw the evidence of his embarrassment into the trash when Maka gasped.

"No! What are you doing—give them to me!"

"What—no way, I wasn't thinkin' straight when I gave these to you—get off, Maka!"

"Nooo—give them back, you gave them to me! I want to read them!"

"You can't even read music!"

"I can try!"

"NO—gah, Gil!" Soul snapped his head to the little boy who had snuck up behind them while they argued, snatching the papers from his hand. "Gil, give them to me!"

"No, give them to me!" Maka insisted. She smiled sweetly down at the boy, making a come hither motion with her fingers. "Give them to me, your uncle gave them to me, remember?"

"I'll buy you pizza for dinner," Soul bribed. "And a bag of Snickers if you give them to me."

Gil's eyes shined.

"NO! I'll, um, ah," Maka faltered. She was his teacher; she couldn't promise him things like Soul could. "Give you extra credit?"

"Extra credit?" Soul guffawed as Gil handed him the papers, sending Maka a guilty look as he did. "_That_ was all you got, extra credit?" He laughed hysterically until Maka rammed a ruler on his head, ignoring his groaning to look at a guilty Gil.

"It's okay, Gil," Maka assured. "I'll just make your uncle give them to me later."

"Yeah, _right_," Soul mumbled from his crouch by the board, wincing when Maka sent him a searing glare.

"O-okay," Gil said, uncertainly. "But, I really want….Snickers…"

"We can go out for some," Maka suggested. "Hey, Soul, let's go. You're taking him home, right?"

Soul eyed her. "Yeah…" He watched Maka hurry the little boy out the door, Gil looking less guilty than before now that he saw Maka's happy smile. But Soul was not convinced. "Hey, you're taking this pretty calm—_lyyyy_," Soul squeaked when Maka grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, her eyes burning.

"We're coming back to school after we drop Gil off," she hissed. "And you are _giving me _those music sheets, Evans. You….you wrote them for, me…r-right?" she faltered suddenly, losing a fraction of her intensity.

Soul averted his gaze, heat burning his cheeks. "Uh, well," he sank a little when she neared him, his throat dry. "Yeah—but I was, like, fifteen! Sixteen! They're really bad, Maka, my newer stuff is better—!" He groaned when her eyes widened, shining.

"You have _more?_"

"No—MAKA!" He watched helplessly as she ran to the door, waving him over. "Seriously," he groaned to himself, trudging after her. "_Not cool_."

* * *

She was not kidding.

Directly after dropping a happy-go-lucky Gil off at home and enduring Blair's leering look when Soul said he would drop Maka off at her home, since Soul had dropped her off at the school in the morning because they had been running late.

Blair was always so outrageous: all he would get today is a lot of arguing, as far as he knew. By this time in the evening, the school looked empty. It was a large shadow against a backdrop of shadowed mountain ridges and Soul would swear even the gates looked imposing, mist beginning to gather at their heels. But Maka opened the gate without any trouble and waved him over.

"This is a bad idea," Soul deadpanned. "Isn't this illegal?"

"The school is completely empty at this time of night," Maka assured him. "Sometimes I stay over to finish homework or read. It's very quiet," she reached behind her and he took her hand without missing a beat.

"_Reading?_" Soul grumbled. "I doubt we're here for reading. _Why_ are we here—we could be at home watching TV."

"You'll see!" Maka smiled, but it looked a little nervous now. They were crossing through the quad when she paused, squeezing his hand. "I know you said you wouldn't…play, but…there was one I wanted to hear."

"Maka," Soul began, reluctant. "I don't—!"

"Please, just that one!" Maka looked at him hopefully. She turned fully when he averted his eyes and held his hand in both her hands. "Just that one, then you don't have to play again if you don't want! I just really wanted to know what it sounds like," she dropped her voice to a murmur, squeezing his hand in hers.

"We don't even have a piano!"

"The one in the auditorium!" Maka chirped.

Soul didn't say anything.

"Please?" Maka asked one more time.

After a second, he said, "…Which one?"

Maka's eyes glowed. "The one named after me!"

"Oh, that one," Soul tugged her as he walked towards the auditorium, reaching into the inner pocket to pull out the folded-up stack of papers. He felt Maka lean in, emerald eyes shining in that way that made him want to cover her eyes and crush her to him. "You would choose the worst one," he sighed.

"_Worst?_" Maka bristled.

"I mean, that was the first one I wrote for you," Soul added, overlooking how her anger deflated to curiosity. Soul seemed deep in thought as he followed Maka into the auditorium through the back, which had the only unlocked door. Maka said it was because the lock was busted, but he had a feeling the janitors had grown used to leaving it unlocked. Regardless, the instant Soul stepped on stage, he felt his heart plummet as one stage light came on.

"I think that's enough light, right?" Maka's voice drifted from the back. He heard the squeak of wheels and some grunting before a piano appeared, the light illuminating more and more of it until it stood directly beneath the circle of light. Soul stared at it with a sick look on his face before Maka popped up, beaming at him. At the sight, his nerves settled a little, but not enough to motivate him to reply when Maka asked if that was fine.

"We haven't used this in a while," Maka told him as she withdrew the sheet over the piano. She walked into the back to drag the bench out as well. "But from what I've heard, it should be fine. It works, at least! Although I don't know much about pianos…" She expected him to make a snarky remark but, when she heard nothing, she looked up to find him running his fingers over the front lid. Maka subdued when she caught sight of his forlornly expression.

"Soul?"

"I haven't touched a piano since I was twenty," he revealed quietly. Maka watched him round the instrument, take a seat on the bench and face the piano. He did not move for a moment, but when he did he lifted the cover and placed his fingers on the keys. His other hand rested on his knee. "I still remember what to do," he mused. "How uncool."

"Is it okay?"

He tapped a few keys, not really hearing her. "Yeah. It's alright."

Maka stood out of the spotlight with her hands clasped behind her. He turned around just as she stood on her toes, cracking a smile when she tried to play it off by rubbing her arm.

"Come here," he said, pointing beside him. Maka sat beside him carefully, looking up and down the row of piano keys curiously.

"How do you know which ones to push?"

"There's a scale," he answered. At her blank look, he sighed and his nervousness settled a little more. He forgot Maka knew as much about music as a child knew about quantum physics. He reached over, gesturing to the row of keys. "There's a scale you have to remember, it isn't that hard. But once you have it memorized, playing becomes easier."

"That sounds easy enough," Maka smiled, perking up. She took back her words when he stretched out one hand over the keys, fingers elegantly curved over them. They touched the keys so gently, barely a push, yet the _sounds_ that they produced—Maka could not look away even if she wanted to. Her eyes followed the gentle movement of his hand as it climbed up and up the keys before coming back down, fingers hitting each key harder before softening up again. The sounds reflected his actions, his movements, Maka realized with awe, yet she knew that each key would produce the same sound when pressed…yet how _he did it,_ how _he played,_ it was so sweet—

Maka startled when his playing became rougher, louder.

She squeezed her hands into fists on her lap, following his hands faithfully, afraid of looking away and missing something amazing. She heard paper shift and when she looked, he was reading off the page, brows furrowed, not looking at the keys at all yet his fingers never second-guessed themselves. His playing faltered at some points when he could not read his own scrawl, stopped sometimes completely, but when he reached the third page he pushed the rest away instead.

"B-but, don't you need it—?"

"No. I got the feel for it," he answered and, to her amazement, improvised the rest.

"Oh…" She whispered, perking up when she noticed the sounds were not forced like before. They came easier, faster and light—content, she realized, his song was _content_.

His improvising, she was surprised to find, was much better than what he had originally written. This sounded lighter, heartier—he was so lost in the moment, so caught up, it reminded her of them. The tempo, the highs and lows, the sweetness that lined it. She watched Soul follow each movement, the pianos sounds haunting and beautiful all at the same time. She had never been a fan of music, she would be honest, but the way Soul played made her want to learn more and more and more.

By the end of it, Soul was breathing harder, his arms sore, his wrist cramping. He had not played that hard, that fast, that long, for _years_. He found he actually missed the soreness, the fading of sounds as the piano quieted. He missed stepping on the pedals, moving his body with the song. He missed it all; it was an ache but not a bad ache. It did not feel as bad as usual in his chest and perhaps that had to do with the fact that Maka was clapping and she was smiling so widely, her eyes were glowing.

Perhaps it had to do with the fact that she said it was _fantastic_ and she did not know he could play so well, ignoring his words when he said he messed up a total of twenty times. She only opened her arms wide and smiled brightly at him—and next thing he knew, he was enveloped in her embrace and his arms were wrapped tightly around her thin frame.

"I told you," Maka muffled against his neck. "It was beautiful, Soul."

He scoffed, holding her gently, digging his fingers into her sides. "You wouldn't know good music even if I showed it to you," he murmured. But his smile was relieved, content. "Thanks, Maka."

Their pinkies linked again and they decided they did not need rings to show just how much they cared for each other—this simple act would be enough, and Maka smiled into his shoulder when their pinkies held tight.

"Y'know… I think I'll rename this song."

"Rename it?"

"Yeah. I'll call it: Big Sister in G Major—UGH!"

"Don't start with that again, Soul!"

"You didn't have to hit me so hard! You almost broke my nose on the piano!"

"Next time you won't be so lucky!"

"So not cool, you're a bad sister—okay! Okay, I'll stop! I'll stop," he chuckled, bringing her nose into his neck and squeezing her tightly against him. "I am going to rename it, though."

"Something not stupid, I hope."

"It won't be. C'mon, let's go before we get caught."

He'll just rename the song Maka in G Major, he thought to himself as Maka tried to disentangle herself from with promises of picking up some Chinese before they went home.

* * *

**A/N: **Oh my god! I had so much trouble uploading this onto FFN because the document itself was too big and my wifi was very slow. Thankfully, though, it is all up now. The art for this story is on my tumblr, so check that out when you can! My artist, Nayght-Tsuki, did such a great job with the art to accompany this story! I am so happy that she selected my story! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! Happy Resbang, everyone!

_Scarlett._


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